That was then, This is now
by Peace.Love.GrapplingGun4085
Summary: 1977. As the nation waits for the final verdict on the Keene Act to be announced, Daniel Dreiberg rummages through a treasure trove of his memories as Nite Owl II and finds himself instead reflecting on every moment spent with a man who's stuck with him through thick and thin. Flashbacks ensue.
1. Chapter 1

August 2, 1977 11:40 p.m.

The nation sat in silent anticipation, in their living rooms, their workplaces, even in the streets, staring anxiously at their televisions or huddled by radios, waiting for Washington D.C. to make an announcement that would change the war against injustice forever.

Citizens of New York City were perhaps the most anxious of all. Time Square was filled that night with more people than it is during New Year's Eve, looking up at the screens waiting for Senator Keene to approach the empty podium to finally give the final verdict made by Congress for the already infamous Keene Act, banning vigilantism for good.

What first began as a rift in the relationship between police officers and masked "heroes" erupted into riots, picket lines, boycotts, and violence that pushed for the removal of masks entirely. Many were at first torn over the idea, being familiar with the noble actions of masks since the late 1930s, but when said actions stopped ending in an arrest and began ending with blood on the city sidewalks, spilling into the sewers and filling the gutters, something had to be done.

What will become of the masks, no one knew. Would they hit rock bottom and meet a grisly end like the now late members of the Minutemen? Would they be able to avoid such horror and live in peace like Hollis Mason, the first Nite Owl, or Sally Jupiter, the first Silk Spectre? Perhaps they can work for the government like Edward Blake, the Comedian, or Doctor Manhattan but that seems unlikely when the regarding the currently active vigilantes.

Two years prior to this night, the mask known as Ozymandias revealed himself as a man named Adrian Veidt and immediately began his new career as an entrepreneur, leaving the rest of his fellow masks to control the then budding riots on their own until now.

With all of that being said, there only leaves two masks in question. The pair have been around since the early 1960s, first working separately before becoming a team to control the gangs of the inner-city. They were welcomed, respected, their photos decorating almost every newspaper in the city, given honors for their efforts that, in a way, put them along the ranks of Doctor Manhattan as the terrors of the underworld. It was until two years ago that something changed between the two masks, something dark, violent. It seemed that one of them had experienced a change of heart and, consequently, mind, which led to blood and mangled corpses rather than a criminal in handcuffs being found by police officers. Such violence and terror are perhaps the cause that led for the act being created in the first place.

But will it be passed? For now, America waits in the bounds for the clock to strike midnight, marking the start of August 3, for what could either be a blessing or a curse.

…..

August 2, 1977 11:45 p.m.

In a brownstone, away from the crowd in Time Square, the second Nite Owl, Daniel Dreiberg, steals a few glances at the television as he attempts to keep his mind occupied with other things around his home. He still can't believe it has all led to this, a full-fledged banning. "Don't worry about it, Danny boy," Hollis had told him on the phone an hour earlier, "you know how the government works. All talk, no real action. You rest tonight and I'll see ya on Friday a'right?" But Dan couldn't rest; the anxiety was too much for him.

He hasn't slept properly for three days, waking up in a cold sweat from dreams he could no longer recall only seconds after he opened his eyes. He would never be able to sleep afterwards so he'd make his way down to his basement, don his Owlsuit, rev up Archie and take to the skies until the sun started to rise. He didn't see a point in doing such things; it hurt him because he knew it would all be over soon. As he flew, he would look to his right, at the empty co-pilot's chair, and his heart would throb in his chest, throat would clench, eyes would fill with bitter tears. Dan can't remember the last time that chair had been occupied, it feels like it has been years. It's not your fault, he'd think to himself, he changed and there's nothing you can do. Hell, if anything it's his fault this damn act exists!

Still, no matter how much Dan tried to blame the other man for what happened to them and their city, he knew it wasn't true and he'd sob and curse himself for thinking so badly of his partner, Rorschach. Yes, he was no longer the way he was when they first met, friendlier, joking, overall enjoyable to be around, but he was still Dan's best friend and Nite Owl II's partner despite the fact they do not patrol together as consistently as before.

Since the night Rorschach appeared in the basement, sitting on the stairs with his head bowed and his trench splashed with dried blood, things have never been the same. He was brutal, continuously beating a person long after they lost consciousness, had violent fits of rage that would cause Dan to have to run up and manually separate his partner from the, by then, limp body and drag him back to Archie. Regardless of the change in behavior, Dan stood by Rorschach against the multiple protests of his fellow masks and his own mentor.

"He's mad," Ozymandias remarked once, "He's going down a path I do not want you do go down as well, Dan. Avert yourself if you know what's good for you."

"Danny, did you see the news the other day?" Hollis said on the phone one night, "He gutted those kids. KIDS, Daniel. I get they were in a gang but that is not the heroic way of dealing with that sort of thing. Just-just be careful. I understand he's your friend and you care 'bout him but be watchful."

"How can you stand being around him? I mean he's always been a creep but this really takes the cake," the second Silk Spectre, Laurie, had scoffed, "if he keeps this up and you keep being around him, one day he'll turn on you."

He'll turn on you.

The words echoed in Dan's mind even hours they were muttered. Rorschach would never ever do anything to harm him, Dan recalls saying. When asked why he's so sure, he gave her the same answer he had told everyone who questioned why he was around the man in the first place: personal reasons.

Said personal reasons are why he leaves a fresh pot of coffee, sugar cubes, a can of beans, or a box of cereal on the kitchen table before going to bed. Despite not patrolling together, Rorschach still made his way to the brownstone before sunrise to rest a moment, eat and drink before leaving once more to wherever he lived. Every once in a rare while, Dan would walk down the stairs from his room to use the bathroom or get a glass of water and find the man in the shifting mask fast asleep on the sofa in the living room, trench and boots off, mask rolled to the bridge of his nose, snoring softly. Dan could never help but smile as he made his way back up the stairs silently to not disturb his noticeably exhausted friend.

The personal reasons themselves, no one knows and Dan doesn't think it's necessary for anyone to know. Some made jabs about it over the years but Dan would always shake his head and tell them that what they are assuming is false, despite them being true. Yes, he loved Rorschach but he would never admit it to anyone. He had never even openly said the three words to the person in question but he had never felt the need because actions always spoke louder than words.


	2. Chapter 2

August 2, 11:55 p.m.

Dan is alone, the clock ticking closer and closer to midnight, waiting for news as to whether or not his life will change drastically. His nerves are getting to him, his head hurts, and he can't stay still. After ages of trying to distract himself, sweeping the kitchen, polishing his owl figurines, he gives in and flops on the sofa before the television in defeat. Everything, every single fucking thing he had fought for will all mean nothing in a few moments and he still can't wrap his head around it. Dan runs his hand through his chocolate brown hair and thumps his foot on the floor until the sound annoys him and he stops.

He rises from his seat again and paces around the living room for what feels like an eternity until something on the shelf above the television captures his eye: a shoebox with a violet ribbon tied around it, his memory box filled with keepsakes.

Yearning to look at something that wasn't the tv, he walked towards it and, standing on his tiptoes, Dan plucks the box from its resting place and holds it in his hands a moment before setting it on the coffee table, unraveling the ribbon and looking inside. What he sees at first looks like trash and he laughs at himself for keeping such rubbish tucked away until he looks closer and realizes what they are: photographs, notes, newspaper clippings, and trinkets here and there that he can't exactly make out.

Suddenly filled with curiosity, Dan reaches inside and pulls out the first few items in the box. He grins when he sees that they're old newspaper clippings he collected of Hollis while growing up. Dan laughs at how much he has, noting the obsession that will eventually drive the fanboy into writing a letter requesting to take up the mantle. Being careful to not rip the yellowing paper, Dan gathered every snippet he could find in the box and stacked them nicely beside it in a perfect little pile. Digging deeper into the box, he extracted several drawings that, after a few moments, make him flush crimson at how silly they look. The first sketches of Archie and his costume looked absolutely ludacris compared to their final products, with Archie displaying wings on the side like an airplane and the Owlsuit covered head-to-toe in feather-like plates that Dan remembers with a laugh he thought about making out of chainmail. _I definitely can't throw these away_, and sets them beside Hollis's photos and articles with a humored smile.

Looking back into the box, Dan's smile shrinks a little as he picks up the next item: an old napkin with an infamous symbol displaying a lowercase "r" and a dot that is mirrored on both sides after being folded in half. He holds it in his hand a bit longer than he should, wondering for a few moments why this display of his partner's symbol is so significant in the first place until he turns it over and sees the words "RORSCHACH" scribbled on the back and remembers.

March 23, 1965

The second Nite Owl makes his way across the rooftops, cape billowing behind him as he leaps from building to building. Tonight's patrol is slower than usual with a purse snatcher being the only thing Dan has stopped all night. _Other masks must be out tonight because I got nothing_, Dan thinks. The moon is full above him, casting a beautiful glow over the streets of Queens that the streetlights cannot. He stops on a ledge to take in the sight until a cry a few alleys down catches his attention. "If this is another purse snatcher, I swear…" Dan mumbles to himself before setting off in the direction. What meets his eyes are a gang of five Knot Tops surrounding a woman who is against the wall, crying in fear.

_Attempted rape maybe, mugging, both?_ Dan thinks as he swoops down like his namesake onto the scene. The gang members turn their attention to him in an instant, giving the woman enough time to get up and run.

"Well, well, look who it is," laughs one of the Knots, "a little birdie came out to play." The other gangsters laugh in unison but Dan learned from Hollis to take such mockery lightly and to focus of the job.

"I thought I made myself clear last time," Nite Owl said, using his best authoritarian voice and stance to make his point, "or are you really as stupid as you look?"

The first Knot that spoke laughs again as he shakes his head before saying, "Oh, Mr. Owl, I did take your lesson into account, really I did," he trails off a little as his eyes move away from Nite Owl to something behind him without Dan noticing, lips forming a devilish grin that made Dan clench his fists. "But as they say, sir," the Knot continues, eyes moving behind Dan again, his grin widening, "there's always strength in numbers."

Dan frowns and is prepared to answer until the sound of boots behind make him whirl around, bringing him eye to eye with ten more Knot Tops, all with weapons in their hands. In an instant they attack, surrounding Dan with no way of escape, swinging at him with brass knuckles, knives, bats, bike chains, and crow bars. Dan sucker punches the closest Knot Top, picking up the dropped baseball bat and swinging it at the approaching Knot trying to attack him from behind.

His cape swooshed around him as he fought at the center of the deadly circle, a fury of kicks and punches, taking down as many Knot Tops as he can. It seemed, unfortunately, the more he took down, the more showed up. Eventually, Dan was starting to feel tired, his legs quacking, his hands in pain from being clenched for so long, and sweat dripping down his forehead into his goggles. Using whatever energy he had left, he floored a large Knot Top handling what looked like a butcher knife with a swift kick to the jaw before his head was struck with a fist sporting brass knuckles.

Dan immediately toppled over, face first, cracking one of the lenses of his goggles, sending the shards of glass into his cheeks. "Come on, come on, get up, you have to get up," he says over and over to himself, making the gathering Knot Tops howl with laughter. When he managed to get on all fours, a bat collided with his back, taking the wind out of him and he flopped back to the ground, coughing. For the first time since donning the Nite Owl costume, Dan was afraid for his life. He could barely see, it hurt to breathe, he couldn't fight back as fists and weapons collided with his body as he lied limply on the gravel, cape draped over him like wings. The sound of a gun being loaded made his heart sink, shame filling his body, feeling the end.

He was hoisted up by his neck by a large gangster and turned abruptly, making him gag even more, so he was looking the first Knot Top that spoke tonight in the face before casting his eyes down, noticing that he now carried a pistol. Dan whimpered and gagged silently, as the gun was raised, the barrel aimed for between his eyes. _No, no, no, no….._

"There, there, it'll all be over soon," Dan heard the Knot say before closing his eyes, "this would only hurt for a few seconds."

Clenching his eyes tightly, waiting for the gun to go off, Dan failed to see a shadowy figure leap from a neighboring fire escape, nor did he see the gang disband immediately, faces that once leered now showing terror as they ran away. What he was able to hear, however, surprised him. The sound of a surprised gasp, followed by a snarl that sent shivers up his back. The snap of bone, the scream of anguish that followed it and the skittering of something metallic being kicked down across the gravel was enough to encourage Dan to pry his eyes open. Though his vision was unfocused from blood and sweat, he was able to make out the scene: the Knot Top that was holding the gun to his face was now on his knees, the weapon now on the opposite end of the alley, whimpering in pain as his wrist was held above his head by a dark figure standing before him, a hat on his head, and a coat billowing around him in the late night breeze.

"Luke, ya big oaf, HELP ME!" the kneeling man cried over his shoulder at the Knot holding Dan before the gloved hand holding his wrist tightened its grip and he howled in pain. Dan was immediately dropped to the pavement with a thud, causing another surge of pain to move through his body as he curled to his side, eyes closed to hold back tears and clutched his body in agony. The man, who he now found out was named Luke, rushed forward, fists raised at the figure holding his boss captive, but was stopped short by a boot colliding with the side of his face. As Dan crawled his aching body to the brick wall beside him, the sounds of fists and feet meeting flesh echoed in his ears, as well as various _oofs, arghs_, and _ahhs_ as the fight continued long after he turned away.

Supporting himself with a trashcan, Dan steadied himself and turned around in time to see Luke's large form crumple to the floor beside his boss, now sobbing softly and cradling what Dan suspected with a smirk was a dislocated wrist. He stayed perfectly still as he watched the figure take in a deep breath, roll his shoulders and flex his hands as he walked to his broken opponents and bent low enough to meet them at eye level. When he spoke, it was something unlike anything Dan has ever heard: a deep rasp, like sandpaper, low enough to be interpreted as a hiss but filled with enough rage and adrenaline to make it a growl.

"Gentlemen," the man began, "I hope you've learned your lesson tonight."

The Knot Tops below him shuddered, mouths opening and closing around words that never came out, eyes wide with sheer terror.

"Please, man," the head Knot spoke, "we're sorry. Honest, we are. J-just let u-u-us go."

"Heh, let you go? After you dare beat and mangle one who is superior to you."

Dan wondered who he was referring to before noticing the man's head cocked in his direction.

He stepped toward the pair slowly, every step followed by a snarl, making Dan think of him as a rabid dog.

"Scum. Like you. Make. Me. Sick." The sound of his boot kicking each man in their gut rang throughout the alley.

When both men were sobbing, the man reached into his coat pocket and extracted handcuffs, snapping them around the head Knot's good wrist and one of Luke's, then gripped them by their jackets and dragged them out to the sidewalk, leaving Dan alone near the trashcan. The sound of silence along with his blood loss made him slump in his corner, lolling his head to the side as he rested his eyes.

…..

Minutes passed as Dan rested, but the sound of approaching feet shook him awake. Opening his eyes was just as painful as anything else he endured tonight, making him wince and groan. Expecting the worst from whoever was approaching, Dan clenched his fists and brought himself to his knees but was surprised when he heard the words, "Are you alright?"

Turning his head, Dan was face to face with the man who gave his attackers what he felt was the beat down of the century.

"Uh," he began, "Yea, I mean not really, I mean…" His mind when blank as the man, face still concealed in the darkness of the night and the brim of his hat, tilted his head and hummed.

Sighing, Dan raised his hand to shake that of his savior. "Thanks a lot, man. I would've been a goner if you never showed up. You're probably thinking how I can even find myself worthy of wearing a cape and calling myself a mask when I can barely hold my own in battle, right?" He went silent a moment then asked, "How did you do that anyway? Finding me and beating the crap out of those guys?"

The answer the man gave surprised him. "I was on patrol. Heard the sounds of distress and came to investigate."

"Haha, what are you a cop?"

"Hurm. Far from, actually." The man then took Dan's hand in his but, rather than shaking it, helped him to his feet. While standing and stretching his legs to loosen up, Dan noted how much smaller he was yet was able to pack such a powerful punch that would make him the terror of the underworld if word got out of this pint-sized fighter patrolling the shadows.

"What do you m-", Dan was about to ask but what his eyes focused on left him speechless. This man wore a mask yet it was the strangest Dan had ever seen. Shifting pools of black ink made their way across white fabric like paint on a canvas. The mask hid the man's entire face and Dan wondered how he could breathe through the thing, much less see.

The surprise on his face must have been noticeable because the man then chuckled before remarking, "Weren't you taught as a child that it's rude to stare?" making Dan flush crimson in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I just…I didn't know you were…uhh." He gestured to his own mask and hoped the man got the hint.

Hand now on the small of Dan's back to help him stand straighter, the man made another sound in his throat and said, "I keep a low profile unlike some other masks. You wouldn't exactly see what I've done beside stories of Dr. Manhattan, or Ozymandias," he hesitated a moment but when he spoke again, Dan noticed the smile in his voice. "Or even you, Nite Owl II."

Dan laughed; he was still feeling embarrassed but a bit more at ease when seeing the humor in the oddly clad masked man holding him as they walked side by side. They stopped at a gas station a block or two away for a moment as the man went into the bathroom and came back with soap, water, and some paper towels to clean Dan's wounds. He made sure to keep still but couldn't help but shiver at the foreign touch of leather covered hands gently wiping the blood and dirt off his face.

When he finished, the man disposed of his makeshift first-aid supplies then, surprising Dan again, asked if he was hungry. Before Dan could nod, his stomach growled to answer his question. They walked another block until a hot dog vendor came into their vision. The man nudged Dan to sit on the stoop of the tenant building they were in front of and dug around in his pockets until, with a satisfied grunt, extracted enough dollar bills for food and approached the vendor. Lucky for them, the vendor was so tired from working the nightshift that he didn't seem to be surprised or intrigued by the masked man making a purchase that Dan smiled when his companion came back with two hot dogs and sodas in his hands.

They ate and drank in comfortable silence before standing and continuing their stroll (Dan didn't feel like it was a patrol anymore). The man kept his hand on Dan's back until he assured him a few blocks later that he felt good enough to walk on his own.

They walked at an equal pace, never falling out of step. Dan didn't bother asking why the man still insisted on staying with him because, in a way, he was enjoying himself and it felt nice to be in the company of a fellow mask. The two exchanged stories of previous brawls and heroic exploits as they walked, Dan listening in quiet admiration as the man described in detail how he took down drug smugglers in the warehouse district single-handedly.

When the first hints of sunrise peaked over the skyscrapers, the pair decided it was time to call it a night. With a stretch to snap his still aching back, Dan turned to the man leaning on the wall beside him and smiled. "Hey," extending a hand to his companion, "I still can't thank you enough for everything tonight. You're proof that there is nobility out here among all the madness." Pools of black ink swirled over the man's cheeks as he accepted Dan's hand and shook it.

"Everybody needs protecting once in a while. Even those who swear to protect everyone else."

Dan smiled from ear to ear then, feeling brave, said, "You know, this was nice. Maybe…I don't know, if you're up for it we could, umm, meet up here….again…tomorrow night for patrol."

Feeling like a kid asking the girl of his dreams out and waiting for the upcoming rejection, Dan stood in silence as he watched the man retract his hand, breaking the handshake, and stare back at him, gears obviously in motion as he thought about Nite Owl's proposition.

Dan sighed and was about to turn and head back to his brownstone when a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"I'd like that."

He almost couldn't believe it and he grinned brighter than he has in what felt like eons as he turned back to the man, now with one hand in the pocket of his open trench and the other fiddling with his cream colored scarf, black ink moving franticly over his face as he raced his head to meet Dan's eyes.

"No kidding?"

"I don't kid. It's bad for my reputation."

Dan couldn't help but smile as he clamped a friendly hand on the man's shoulder, smirking when he felt him tense then relax in his touch. "Tomorrow night then."

"Tomorrow night," the man nodded.

The two exchanged their good-byes and were starting to walk away in opposite directions when Dan froze. _God, I'm such an idiot! I don't know his name!_ Spinning around, causing his cape to swirl about him, Dan called out to the man now turning down the next alley and cried out, "Hey! I never learned your name! Wait up!"

Breaking into a slow jog, careful not to sprain his knees any more than they were already, Dan frowned when he made it to the intersection he saw the man walk down but didn't see him. Sighing and bowing his head, he turned on his heels and was going to head back down the path towards his house when something caught his eye: a napkin with a mustard stain from the hot dogs he and the man ate earlier, folded up neatly on the ground in the place Dan saw the man stand before he disappeared. An average person would have just thought of it was trash and would have disposed of it after picking it up but Dan wasn't exactly an average person. Instead, he unfolded the rumpled paper and studied the curious emblem drawn in the center in black ink. _Looks like a "r"…no, two "r"s…and dots?_ He didn't understand and shook his head, now feeling the need to throw the napkin away.

As he crumpled it up to do so, Dan noticed there were more letters on the opposite side of the paper and quickly unfolded it, smoothing it on his leg to rid the napkin of the wrinkles he added. He read the word looking back at him once, then twice, then three times in his head before saying it to himself.

"Rorschach." He paused. "Rorschach?"

He wondered for a moment if that was what his new companion called himself. _Makes sense_, he thought. _The black inkblots, of course! Rorschach inkblot tests_. Man, the guy is clever. Dan smiled a minute at the paper before folding it into a neat square and holding it in the palm of his hand, deciding to keep it as a memento of tonight.

As he walked home, he couldn't help but say the name again and again to himself, liking how the word rolled on his tongue. It was a curious name for a curious man and Dan couldn't help but smile at how perfectly it suited him.

Once home, Dan stripped himself of his costume, laying his broken goggles on the worktable so he could fix it later, showered, cleaned his wounds once more, then lied down on his bed, noting how much it felt like a cloud under his battered body. Reaching out to turn off his bedside lamp, he hand froze and, instead of flicking the light switch, reached next to it and grabbed the napkin from where he placed it when he came home. He smiled again at the item and wondered what the future held for him and this Rorschach.

"All a part of the job", Rorschach had said while he tended his wounds hours ago. "We live on the edge and learn to face the elements of surprise so often that, after a while, we welcome what causes the average man shock and awe with open arms."

Smiling, now wrapped in his comforter rather than wearing his filth covered costume, Dan said to himself in the darkness of his room, wishing he said it hours ago, "Then I welcome you to my life in open arms, Rorschach."

With nothing else but sleep on his mind a few minutes later, he gently placed the napkin back in its place, turned off the light and closed his tired eyes, hoping to get plenty of rest. Tomorrow's patrol, he was sure, is going to be the greatest he's ever had in his career as a mask thanks to a small, vicious yet well-meaning masked man he could associate with the word "friend".


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Getting ready for college is being rather stressful but I didn't forget about you guys so here's chapter 3. To be a bit different, this chapter is part 1 of 2 so hang on to your keyboards when it's over and don't get mad thinking, "Raaaarl cliffhanger!" because part 2 is being finished as you read. **

August 2, 11:56 p.m.

Dan held the yellowing paper in his hand longer than he should have, looking at the aging reminder of how long ago the good times were. With a sudden heavy heart, he gently cast the napkin aside and raised his eyes to the television. _Should focus on the now instead of feeling nostalgic about the past._ Reporters from across the city were interviewing members of the masses gathered to watch the "news of the decade" and Dan wasn't sure if he wanted to listen. He knew how they all felt about masks and their actions so why bother hearing it again.

Sure enough, when the reporter from NBC made his way through the crowd, asking, "What do you think about vigilantes", Dan's ears met with the usual responses:

"They're a menace!"

"Murderers!"

"They think they doin' justice? Leave it to the cops!"

"Go home, heroes!"

"They did good once but not so much anymore."

The last person, a graying man that Dan noted with a sad smile reminded him of the late Nelson Gardner, was asked to elaborate. The man shrugged and seemed to gather his thoughts a moment before replying, "Well, the Minutemen were never bad guys. They did their job right and cleaned the city, got awards, picture taken, the whole deal it comes with being a hero. Then the next generation shows up and-well…"

"Then everything changed?" inquired the reporter.

"Exactly," the man admitted. "I mean I get we're talking about the same group that caused the need for all this," gesturing to the crowd a moment then adding with a sigh, "but they did put down some big figures in their glory days."

**Big figures.**

Dan put the television on mute once the man finished his statement and the reporter moved to a woman carrying a sign saying "Hang the Capes", and then tossed the remote across the sofa before drawing his attention back to the box. Sure, he never got awards or anything like Hollis did but he was positive that he had his photo taken at the scene of a crime. Naturally, he never hung them up for the sake of compromising his identity when company (especially family) came over but he knew he kept those photos somewhere. He was never photogenic due to his glasses and round, pudgy face he had as a child but he thought he took a damn good picture in his Nite Owl getup.

Digging eagerly into the box, he extracted the first thing that felt like newspaper against his fingers. The first couple clippings were just some more about Hollis and the Minutemen then drifted into clippings about bank robberies, break-ins, drug rings, and the like that were used for leads (Dan tried his best to not notice that every one of those articles were scribbled on here and there, words either circled or underlined, all in the same red ink and childlike scrawl).

When he finally found what he was looking for, Dan read the headline once then twice then looked at the photograph beneath. There he was as the Nite Owl but his cape was torn slightly on one side, his entire suit covered in what appeared to be mud. He looked like a horrid mess and yet, in the photo, Dan was smiling, beaming even. He looked as happy as he was when he found out he got accepted to Harvard or even happier, teeth gleaming for the camera and dimples exposing themselves on his cheeks. Of course, he wasn't alone; draped over the shoulders by Dan's arm, looking just as filthy and discombobulated, was Rorschach, arms folded, hat and trench missing, suit jacket ripping at its trim, covered mask to boot in mud yet, like Dan, his posture showed no discomfort. He seemed to stand with pride at Dan's side, shoulders relaxed under Dan's hold, head tilted in a nonthreatening way towards the camera, gloved fingers parted slightly as his biceps.

After studying the picture another moment, Dan smiled and looked back at the headline: **Daring Duo Take down Tiny Drug Lord at Docks.**

December 11, 1965

It was a cold night, the end of autumn bringing about the icy gusts of winter wind onto the bodies of the citizens of New York. Barely anyone was out at night during this time of the year but that never meant that there wasn't anything to be done. While most people were staying warm in their homes or local bars, they failed to hear the sound of boots rapidly hitting pavement echoing through the alleyways, the sounds of someone in a chase or being chased.

At the center of an intersection of brick walls and fire escapes , a man stopped to catch his breath, heart pumping so rapidly he thought it'd burst, resting. He had been running for 15 minutes straight now and he needed a break but he knew staying here for too long was foolish because they'd get him and he wouldn't be able to stop them due to his exhaustion. He wiped the sweat off his temple and sighed until the sound of someone approaching immediately grasped their attention.

"Crap!" the man hissed to himself, straightened up then took off in a run. Unfortunately, the slow, careful padding behind him turned into fast, determined strides then morphed into a full blown sprint that made the man's throat clench and sweat run even colder on his skin as he ran.

_Crap, crap, crap, crap!_

His destination came into view down the alley before him, making him push himself harder until he barely felt his feet hitting the gravel anymore. "Almost there," he huffed softly. "Almost there, almost…" When he was a few feet away he stopped, something or, rather, nothing meeting his ears. The other footfalls had ceased so suddenly that the man shivered at the stillness around him. He turned around, observing his surroundings. He was alone, it was quiet, it was cold, and it all felt wrong. "Hello?" he called out a couple of times, pausing in between to listen, but was met with more spine-tingling silence. With sigh, he turned and made his way to the end of the alley when suddenly he was pounced on and shoved onto the floor with an undignified shriek of surprise escaping his lips.

Landing hard on his stomach, the man gasped when he felt the weight of his attacker straddling his back, pinning him more into the pavement that dirt got into his mouth. The man struggled and coughed, trying to buck his attacker off to no avail, only making the other man dryly laugh as he squirmed beneath him. When he finally gave up and flopped helplessly on the pavement, the attacker slowly raised his hand, leaned down so his lips were near the man's ear, then thumped the man on the head before muttering, "Tag. You're it, Nite Owl."

The man, Nite Owl, groaned. "Yea, yea, I know. Geez, I thought I lost you two blocks ago. You really are faster than you look, Rorschach. Now," he sighed as he squirmed again, "Can you please get off? You're also heavier than you look."

The man named Rorschach let out a humored_ hurm_ then said, "I'm actually quite comfortable, thank you. Docks will still be there so perhaps I'll rest here a moment." Then he crossed his legs and comfortably sat on his companion's back, much to his disdain.

"Come on, man; I'm not playing anymore. Game over."

"Funny. If I recall correctly, the game was your idea."

"Yea, well, it's over. You won."

"Then say it to make it official."

"….Do I really have to?"

"Yes."

"But I already said you won…"

"Yes but you agreed to say it if I went along with it and won in the process. Now, say it."

Nite Owl sighed deeply then began, "Rorschach is faster, stronger and more agile than I will ever hope to be. I look up to him so much and am blessed to work with him. He is the tag champion of the universe." He turned to look at the man still seated on his back. "Better?"

Rorschach nodded. "Better." He then got off his partner and extended a gloved hand to help him stand. Nite Owl took it and pushed himself off the ground, dusted off dirt from his costume, straightened his goggles and cowl to look more dignified even though the shifting ink on his partner's face formed a jack-o-lantern like grin that made him wonder if he found his disgruntled appearance amusing. Nite Owl smirked and cocked his eyebrow. "Y'know, I think this is the quickest we've ever got to anywhere. Told you playing tag would motivate us to haul ass over here but still have fun."

Another nod from the smaller, swifter man as he stood beside him. "I suppose so. I did win after all."

"Yea only because you got a head start."

"I did no such thing. Being a sore loser, Nite Owl?"

"Me? Oh no, sir, never."

"Hurm…No need for games in the first place. There's work to be done that doesn't require lollygagging."

"Hmph, lollygagging you just participated in and had fun."

When Rorschach canted his head towards him and let out a low warning growl, Nite Owl just smiled wider and clapped the man on the shoulder. "Come on, buddy, time to do what we do best." Then the pair stepped out of the alley into the chilly open air of the harbor.

….

The wood of the pier beneath their feet creaked and echoed as waves crashed against the shore. The lamps weren't bright enough to their liking so Rorschach walked ahead with his flashlight in hand and Nite Owl followed close behind him.

"Man," he mumbled, scanning their deserted surroundings. "It's darkness like this that really makes me think adding a night vision setting to my goggles would not be such a bad idea."

"I agree," Rorschach admitted, "but aren't you already working on a hundred other projects? You mentioned something about a ray gun last week."

"That's already done actually," Nite Owl answered proudly then, after a slight pause, continued with a tired sigh, "it's Archie that's taking up most of my time."

The man leading him froze mid-step then turned, flashlight aimed at his face as its wielder asked, voice showing obvious curiosity, "Archie?"

"Uh yea, that's….uhh…what I named it. Well his real name is actually Archimedes, like Merlin's owl, so I just shortened it since…heh...I think both of us agree that "Archimedes" is a real mouthful."

"Fitting name considering…" he moved the flashlight around Nite Owl in a way he guessed was a polite way of saying "this silly owl theme you have going on" before asking, "but what **is** Archie?"

"Oh," now Nite Owl wished the flashlight wasn't gleaming so brightly on his face so the masked man holding it couldn't see him blush. "Archie is….an airship."

Rorschach lowered the flashlight slowly and took a step forward to look at his partner with his own eyes. "An airship? **You** are making an airship?"

"You make it sound like it's something ridiculous."

"Being around you on a nightly basis has made me learn to accept some of your ridiculous actions and just label them as eccentric if you must know."

Nite Owl folded his arms and sighed, "Well yes. I am making an airship for us to use on patrol so we don't have to go running across the street or in alleys. Besides, I prefer not nearly turning into road kill by leaping in front of a taxi or being trampled on by a police horse by spooking it like **somebody** I know."

Rorschach clenched his hand around the flashlight tightly, looking away from him and muttered under his breath, "Those both occurred one time."

"Yea, they did," the taller man noted, "but that doesn't mean it can't happen again. I figured some form of transportation would be practical and would save me a few gray hairs worrying like a madman about you getting hurt."

The shifting face looked up at him and he felt invisible eyes boring into his as the black ink spread over the white cloth like the wings of a butterfly. "You…worry about me?" The surprise and softer tone in Rorschach's voice suddenly made Nite Owl feel an ounce of pity towards the short man with a short temper to boot and a sense of humor drier than the Sahara.

_You'd think the guy never had anyone care about his well-being._

"Yes," he answered, "Of course, man. You're my partner and we're a team. I mean, I don't know what I'd do if I ever saw you in pain or lost you. Friends care about their friends."

Rorschach stared at him a moment or two longer, the crashing of the waves booming in his ears as seconds ticked away, then rasped, "I care about you too, Nite Owl. I make it my sworn duty to keep you safe along with the rest of the city. You are a good man."

Nite Owl smiled and pulled his partner into a quick hug, ignoring the _ennk_ it caused, and then said after letting go, "So, uh, let's find this ship, huh?" Rorschach nodded, aimed his flashlight ahead of them and continued their walk.

Both men hoped this wouldn't be a total bust; leads weren't coming in as much as they would've liked and, if they did, it just sent the pair on a wild goose chase. It seemed that no one, absolutely no one, knew the whereabouts of dwarf drug mogul, Big Figure. Nite Owl never heard of the guy (he never did business in the underground) so when Rorschach brought him up during small talk one night of patrol, he was intrigued. Apparently Rorschach had been a mask long before him (since spring of '64) and became hot on Figure's trail by the end of the year until one bad patrol led to another and he tossed that case aside; that is, until he met Nite Owl and the other man eagerly insisted on helping him bring Big Figure down. "It's what partners do," he had said with his ever so boyish grin that sometimes made Rorschach wonder just how serious this spirited young man was about crime fighting; regardless of that mental debate, he agreed to let Nite Owl help him.

Everyone they interrogated swore they knew something but they'd either lie or say old news to save themselves from losing a few fingers (or just a swift kick to the stomach if the mask playing "bad cop" was having a nice evening) and nothing came even close to what the duo were looking for.

It wasn't until two weeks ago when a shabby looking man approached them as they climbed down a fire escape with interesting news. "Yous guys lookin' for the Figure, am I right?"

They nodded.

"Heheh, good," the man laughed. "Word of the underground is that the runt and his cronies bought themselves an old ship down by the docks and are taking a ton of the stuff, "high quality goods", 'cross the Atlantic." Rorschach lunged forward before Nite Owl could stop him, slamming the man against the dumpster in the alley. "When?" he snarled, gripping the collar of the man's shirt tighter for emphasis. "Next Saturday," the man croaked. "Ship leaves in the evening but who really knows with that slippery little twerp." And that was that.

Now there they were, Saturday night at the vacant harbor, no sign of a ship anywhere. Nite Owl didn't know how long they've been wandering around but, by the position of the moon, he knew it's been more than an hour and his feet were hurting. Rorschach, however, seemed to have all the energy in the world, poking around at everything like a crazy little terrier, determined that this case wouldn't become another failure.

"Rorschach!" Nite Owl called out from where he sat against a trashcan, raising his voice above the waves while the other man waved his flashlight around, walking along the sandy shore. "Maybe that guy was bluffing. I mean, look around! I see crates, a few barrels, saw a motorboat or two back where we started, but no ship anchored at a dock."

"It's because it's not anchored!"

"What?!"

Rorschach waves his arms over his head, looking rather silly in Nite Owl's tired eyes, beckoning him over to where he stood. When he finally stumbled across the sand to join his partner, Nite Owl yawned. "Alright, what is it? What do you mean it's not anchored?"

"It's not anchored," the masked man repeated, "because it's there." He pointed the flashlight out to the ocean. Nite Owl followed where it was aimed and uttered a humorless chuckle when he saw it: out in the middle of the ocean, anchored in place, was an aged cargo ship, lights glimmering back at them. "Well I'll be." He paused. "Um, one problem though." When Rorschach looked up at him, he nodded his head out to their target. "Just how exactly do you expect us to get there?"

His partner raveled and unraveled his free hand in his ivory scarf as he thought a moment then asked, "You mentioned something about a motorboat, correct?"

"…..Yes."

"Perfect. I hope you paid attention when your engineering professor delved on the mechanics of boats."

"You can't possibly mean-"

"Yes and you're driving."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Geez, how long has it been? Dios mio. Sorry for the delay again. This nifty program on tv called "the Olympics" was distracting me but that's over and done with so here I am with a new chapter. Oh and by the way, instead of making this a two part section of the story, it's now three parts so this is part two of three, mkay? Also, shoutout to the new followers and the reviewers. You make my heart feel super happy. Now on with the story!**

It was five minutes to midnight and the harbor had grown dead silent. Out in the distant horizon sat a great ship, its once perfect red and gray paint peeling of its sides, lights glimmering throughout as it rocked slightly to and fro with the natural rhythm of the waves, unaware of the smaller vessel speeding towards it.

Miles away (but making good time), a small boat's engine whirred as it was maneuvered in the ship's direction, two riders approaching with great determination. If there were anyone present on the shore, they would be perplexed by the two men in the boat considering how oddly dressed they were: the first man, the driver, was tall and clad in brown Kevlar with the edges turned upwards on his head to resemble horns of some sort, sported goggles to help him see as he drove, brown cape fluttering behind him like the wings of a great bird; beside him sat a smaller man who was, perhaps, the oddest of the pair: his slight body hugged by a tan trench coat, a fedora in the matching hue and violet ribbon around it sat firmly on his head, an ivory scarf ducked into a matching violet, pinstripe suit. The short gentlemen would appear like anyone else from a distance until one got close enough to see his face and be shocked to see shifting black ink on an eyeless white mask.

Every so often, the driver will look to the man sitting beside him and smile, same question on his lips since the voyage began: "How you holding up, buddy?" and his passenger would_ hurm_ in response, adjust his hat or scarf, and answer, "Fine like this." They were a strange pair indeed but there was an unseen bond that an outsider looking in would find confusing; regardless, the men were good friends and partners, and were embarking on one of the biggest busts of their career.

…

Nite Owl blinked behind his goggles, the water splashing up and around their boat was making their way into his eyes. He never travelled on water before nor did any studying on water vessels since it's something one that lives in the center of a city would never find necessary yet he was impressed with how well he was doing. He was lucky that Rorschach found the keys under the driver's seat or else they would have had to maneuver the boat with some paddles they found which would have taken them ages to figure out how to row in sync since Nite Owl took things nice and easy while Rorschach did things in urgency.

The ship was getting closer and closer into his peripheral vision and Nite Owl smiled to himself, the boat's motor and the ocean's crashing waves buzzing in his ears.

"Not bad for never driving a boat before."

His passenger's sudden comment nearly made him jump out of his costume and he cleared his throat as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Heh, I know right. Hey, you've been so quiet I assumed the calming ocean waves rocked you to sleep."

Rorschach sat up straighter in his chair, cocked his head at the man beside him, unseen eyes borrowing into Nite Owl's profile a moment before murmuring, "I never sleep on the job, especially not when we're in unfamiliar territory."

Nite Owl smirked. "Yea and then you'd miss out on all the fun of being at sea, the smell of the water, the ocean breeze on your—mask."

The masked man let out a low, humorless snarl and angled his body away from his still smirking partner's gaze. "Don't like travelling like this much, actually. I prefer going on foot."

"Me too but last time I checked, man, you can't walk on water."

Rorschach simply hurmed in a way that Nite Owl had learned by now was the man's way of saying_ "Says you" _and squirmed in his chair. "Are we there yet?"

Nite Owl nodded. "A little further, buddy, and then the fun can begin."

"Ennk. What you call fun, Nite Owl, is usually what I see as exhausting."

"Well maybe if you cut lose every once in a while you wouldn't be so tense or jumpy all the time."

"I am not jumpy. It's called being on your toes, always alert, not easily brought down."

"Hmph," Nite Owl scoffed. "If you say so, man."

Rorschach squirmed again beside him. _Geez, travelling sure does put him on edge. _"So," Nite Owl began, trying to change the subject, "How many guys do you think we're gonna be dealing with?"

"Most likely a lot considering who and what we're dealing with."

He sighed. "Super; as if I wasn't already exhausted enough, now we have to take down a gang of meatheads."

The smaller man regarded his companion. "It wouldn't be that bad considering there are now two of us rather than one. Our strengths, though different, fall in sync and are what makes us function properly regardless of whom or what we face."

Nite Owl smiled. "That's true and we do make a hell of a team. I mean, the other masks are all right but we just sort of, you know, fit together."

Black pools of ink flooded Rorschach's cheeks as he nodded in agreement. A pause before he spoke again. "Imagine if you had to work with the Comedian."

Nite Owl tilted his head back and howled with laughter, nearly losing his grip on the steering wheel. "That'll be the day! It's like if you had to work with the king of glitz and glamour, Ozymandias."

"I rather work alone than stand beside him longer than thirty-five minutes."

"Haha, you don't like him much, do you?"

"Hmm, too much of a show-off, goes after petty crimes, and is also a camera whore. If I knew better, I'd say that he'd reveal his identity to the first person who asks if he hasn't already."

"Well, I assume the other masks know his identity by now. I mean, I've seen him hang around Comedian and Doctor Manhattan before so it wouldn't surprise me much if they all know each other's real name."

Rorschach clenched his fists, making Nite Owl pause, and then muttered in a low growl,

"One shouldn't compromise their identity. We wear masks for a reason, Nite Owl: to shield ourselves, to separate us from the rest. We are above the average human being for the mask signifies power, strength, and shows no weakness unlike the plain, ordinary, **ugly** face of man."

_Where the hell did that come from? _ The eyes behind the goggles widened at the change of tone and choice of words his partner used. He never heard Rorschach speak like that. Sure, he knew he had different, more conservative views on some things that made Nite Owl disagree but turning his nose up at the human race (_which he was a part of_, Nite Owl thought coldly) was a bit odd and startling.

Nite Owl knew all about what came with donning a mask and protecting others; Hollis lectured him constantly when he first started training about all the responsibilities and precautions that came with the job as well as who to trust. Like the stubborn young man he knew he can be at times, Nite Owl scoffed and told his predecessor that he'll be all right, that he could take whatever the city through at him and didn't need anyone watching over him; obviously, he was wrong that warm, spring night Rorschach swooped down from above like a guardian angel and saved his life. Funny how long ago that felt despite the fact it happened only nine months ago. Hollis did speak of what he'd call "oddballs" and told him to be careful with them but Nite Owl never expected to be saved by who he thought must be the oddest ball in the basket. He admits to being startled by the man when his eyes rested on his savior yet something deep inside him, something warm, said that everything was all right now, that he was safe, and he listened to that voice the entire night as his strange, little hero walked with him, mended his wounds, fed him, and made small talk. Rorschach was weird, yes, but there was something about him that (dare he say it) attracted Nite Owl which is why he asked to see him again.

Now, nine months later, they are a team regardless of being polar opposites (and you know what they say about opposites…). In that time, Nite Owl had wondered who was under the shifting ink, watching his back with unseen eyes, speaking to him nightly with invisible lips; hell, he even thought of taking off his cowl and showing his partner who **he** was and maybe, just maybe, he'd see that as a symbol of complete trust and would do the same. Rorschach's words, unfortunately, stomped down his hopes of seeing his face and made him doubt that he'd want to see his at all. He wasn't a bad guy, Nite Owl thought. Sure, Daniel Dreiberg was nowhere as strong and brave as Nite Owl but he was still a good person and knew how to be a good friend. Absentmindedly, he reached a hand to his cowl and took a sideways glance at his partner. _Why do you think so lowly of humans when not all of us are bad? What happened to you to make you this way? Will you ever trust m-_

"Nite Owl, look out!"

Rorschach's cry yanked him out of his thoughts just in time and turned his attention back to driving the boat, now a few feet away from colliding at top speed with the staggering ship before them.

"Shit!" Nite Owl stomped his foot hard on the break and turned the wheel so they skimmed the water sideways. Waves splashed up and drenched the pair with the salty sea as their boat made a complete stop, only bumping slightly against the ship's stern. Panting, he wiped some water off his goggles and said, "God that was close! Are you ok, Rorschach?"

The smaller man shakily stood from his chair and shook the excess water off of his coat like a wet dog. Despite noticeably shivering, he mumbled, "I'm fine." Nite Owl took the keys from the ignition, tucked them safely under his seat, thenstood as well, tilting his head back to admire the towering ship before them, an awestruck whistle escaping his lips.

"Pretty impressive machinery, I say."

"I suppose," Rorschach said as he stood beside his partner. "One problem though."

"And what's that?"

"How do we get up there?"

When Nite Owl grinned at him, Rorschach cocked an eyebrow and wondered what his partner was thinking. "Well," Nite Owl began, "I've been tinkering around like I usually do and…I made something for you that I think will come in handy."

Rorschach took a small step back. "You…made me something?"

Nite Owl, still grinning, replied quickly, suddenly feeling nervous, "I know, I know, it isn't the holidays quite yet but when I heard of the mission I figured, you know, you would like it now. Call it an early Christmas gift.

"Gift?" The word was spoken softly, the obvious bewilderment tainting Rorschach's voice. _You'd think the guy never received a gift before_, Nite Owl thought. Without another pause, he turned away from his partner and reached into his utility belt. When he whirled back around, Rorschach's throat clenched and eyes widen behind his mask as he admired the glimmering steel grappling gun in Nite Owl's hands.

Seeing the small man tilt his head to admire the gun in his hands, Nite Owl, still grinning but now noted warmth in his chest and felt his face starting to redden, extended his arms out to his friend. "For you," he said. "Happy early Christmas, Rorschach."

Rorschach continued to stare at the gun another moment then raised a hand to take it but retracted it, casting his eyes down to his boots. "I-I cannot accept this."

"What?" Nite Owl started. "Why not? I tested it out so I know it's safe if that's what your concern is."

"No," Rorschach rasped. "I cannot accept this because I am….ennk...not worthy of such generosity, much less such a beautiful gift."

Nite Owl sighed. "Rorschach, you are one of the hardest working people I know. You protect millions on a nightly basis, are determined, brave, and the best fighter I've ever seen. You saved my life and I'll never forget that. You-you're my hero and my best friend and I care about you, man, so," he gulped, "this is the least I can do."

Rorschach shifted from one foot to the other, rocking the boat slightly, then reached for the gun again and took it slowly. He held it delicately between violet, leather fingers, caressing the handle gently before gripping his hand around it and hurmed at how perfectly it fit in his hand, as though it was always meant to be there. "Thank you, Nite Owl. It's…a very nice gift. I will make sure to…" _Cherish it always?_ Nite Owl thought hopefully. "Put it to good use." _Close enough._

"Hey man, don't sweat it," Nite Owl replied and gave his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze, noticing how he didn't shrink away or growl at being touched. "Now then," he cleared his throat then removed his throwing crescent from his belt, clicking the button from it that released a wire. "Let's put that baby to work and kick some ass, huh?"

Rorschach canted his head to his partner and nodded, inkblots swirling in anticipation as he raised the gun to the railing above them and pulled the trigger. The hook detached itself from the gun with a _whoosh_ then a _clank_ echoed from above when it was secured. Nite Owl smiled at how perfect it worked then looked at the gun's owner and, if his eyes deceived him, saw his cheeks lifted slightly under the mask, as though he too was smiling. That sent a new wave of emotions through Nite Owl and, without a moment to lose, spun his crescent on its line and sent it flying, waiting for it to clank and made sure his wire was secure to his belt.

"Ready?" Nite Owl asked his friend.

"As I'll ever be," Rorschach replied, the "smile" now seeping into his voice. "Nite Owl?"

"Yea, Rorschach?"

"Hurm…what you said about always remembering how I saved you, did you mean it?"

Smiling gently at his friend, Nite Owl answered, "Ask me in twenty years and see."

Rorschach let out his signature dry chuckle before returning back to the present. Nodding his head to the hooks above them, he asked, "Countdown?"

Nite Owl nodded with a grin. "Countdown."

Gripping the gun's handle tightly and straightening up, looking noble in the gleam of the moon above, Rorschach began counting. "One…"

"Two…"

"Three!"

Buttons were pressed at the same time with echoing clicks then the two men shot up into the air, wind flapping past them until their boots landed on the ship's deck.

Unhooking the crescent, Nite Owl reattached it to his belt then turned to Rorschach and saw him pocket the gun safely in one of the many compartments of his trench coat, crack his knuckles and straighten his suit, being as professional as ever before looking over his shoulder to his partner, half of his face shadowed by the brim of his hat, and growled, "Let's do this."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: Hello, darlings. I haven't forgotten you all. You're probably getting annoyed with me and wondering when we're ever going to have the boys confront Big Figure and his cronies but I'm sorry to say that won't be this chapter but I do hope you like this little chappy here though. Think of it as prep up for the action, blood, sweat, tears, and awkward best friend moments (and maybe surprise cameos by other characters) coming up in the next chapter that will be the -hopefully- epic conclusion to this rather long part of the story. Enjoy!**_

The night's full moon glowed above, casting a glimmering reflection on the sea below its ever watchful gaze. Nite Owl couldn't help but look out to the water, admiring the simple beauty of the night, even though he knew he had to be working. The ship creaked below his boots but that was all that met his ears. The moment he and his partner landed on the deck, they haven't seen any sign of people being on board. They looked in the control room and found it empty, the door tightly locked and the passage that led to the main corridor deserted. Nite Owl remarked with a smirk that his partner should knock the door down with a never failing kick off its hinges but that only made the other man dryly laugh and question whether he thought him a fool. When Nite Owl shook his head, fumbling on a clumsy apology, his partner simply hummed and elaborated that kicking the door down would be too risky, that, if people were indeed on board the ship, the sound of the impact would surely alert them of their presence. He then regarded his friend with a morphing, black-on-white stare before lighting his flashlight again and stating he was going to look around for another way to get down to the other levels, a trapdoor of some sort perhaps. As he walked off to investigate, Nite Owl smiled as he watched the determined-as-hell man he called "partner" go and, for the second or third time that night, wondered where he'd be if he never met him.

…**..**

Nite Owl sat on the ship's wooden floor, feet curled under him as he rested his head on a crate, eyes casted upward to the twinkling stars and brilliant moon. The good thing about the docks being so isolated was that they were away from streetlights, making the night sky more visible. He smiled at the thought of finally being able to fly like he had dreamed as a child; he simply couldn't wait until Archie was finished. He was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard the sound of boots approaching beside him; it was only when the approaching figure sat on the crate with a sigh and put his fedora over his face like a hat rack did he snap out of it.

Laughing at his friend's playfulness, Nite Owl removed the hat and held it gently in his hands, flicking off whatever dirt and grime that usually coated it, then asked, "Any luck?"

The hatless man shook his head as he folded and unfolded his hands in his lap.

Nite Owl sighed and brought his knees to his chest, twirling the hat in his hands.

"Did you look under boxes?"

His partner nodded.

"Barrels?"

He nodded again.

"And still nothing?"

His partner let out a soft groan then lied down on the crate, head inches away from where Nite Owl's rested, and looked up at the sky as he mumbled, "Not a thing."

Nite Owl sighed and nuzzled his head back down so he was temple-to-temple with his friend. "Rorschach, have you ever thought…I don't know…that we've been duped again?"

"At this rate," Rorschach sighed, "it wouldn't surprise me."

"Nothing really surprises you anyway," Nite Owl remarked with a grin.

His partner shrugged, shoulder bumping lightly with his, and replied, "Once one sees and experiences certain things, the element of surprise falls flat."

"Heh, only you, Rorschach."

Nite Owl smiled, settled the hat down beside him, and teasingly nudged his head lightly against Rorschach's, making the man let out a thoughtful, humored _hurm_ as he settled down in his resting place amid the cold December air and brilliant night sky. He liked it when they were like this: both tired from a night of investigating then being able to relax together, side-by-side or back-to-back, posing on rooftops like watchful gargoyles yet sitting so closely that their silhouettes from afar made them look conjoined, like they were one. Nite Owl liked to think that they were one (they were a team after all) and that one wouldn't be the same without the other; they were like ying and yang: polar opposites that completed each other.

When he sighed, his breath dancing away from his face like smoke from a dragon's snout, Rorschach turned his head to him. "Something the matter?" he asked with concern in his voice.

Nite Owl nodded and answered, to not worry his partner, "Yea, I'm good. Just…uh…" he adjusted his sitting position, the floorboard beneath him creaking loudly as he moved (_leave it to me to get cozy on a loose one!_) and muttered, "Just a bit cold, I guess. Temperature must be dropping."

The inkblots shifted slowly across Rorschach's face as a sign that he too was cold but the next gesture really caught him off guard. In a swift movement, Rorschach untied his scarf then draped it gently over Nite Owl's shoulders, letting the ends caress his neck. When he looked up at his friend, mouth open to tell him that this wasn't necessary, that he can keep the scarf and he'd be fine until the end of the night he was silenced by a raised hand and, "Consider it a thank-you gift since I…ennk…don't have one for you at the moment." He sat up and adjusted his trench coat as he muttered, "Happy early Christmas."

At a loss for words, Nite Owl beamed and wrapped the scarf securely around his neck, tucking the ends into his costume. "Thanks buddy," he said. "That's really….sweet."

The inkblots suddenly picked up speed over the white as Rorschach curtly nodded, wrapping his gloved hands together to keep them warm as he stood.

To break the awkward silence he felt coming, Nite Owl cleared his throat. "So, what's the plan? Get back in the boat, dock it then head to the drop-off point?"

Rorschach bowed his head, hand floating up to his neck to the scarf that was no longer there for him to stroke as he thought, then clenched his hands into fists. "No," he rasped. "There is something here and I know it. We must continue, looking, Nite Owl. I **refuse** to leave empty handed again."

_Can't argue with that_, Nite Owl thought as his partner began to pace up and down in front of him, muttering to himself what their next move should be. Watching so much movement around his sitting area made Nite Owl anxious and begin to squirm, causing the loose board beneath his rump to creak louder. When one creak too many echoed across the deck, Rorschach abruptly stopped pacing and whirled around to face him.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?" Nite Owl met his gaze with tired eyes after a yawn. "What was what?"

"That sound," his partner replied.

"Oh, heh, just this floorboard I'm sitting on and it's pretty loose," he elaborated. "Seems to be the only loose one on the ship and I find it absolutely comfortable despite the ruckus." When he squirmed again to make it creak and started to giggle like a child at the absurd sound, Rorschach stared down at him, cold and unmoving. "Hey, man, what's-"

"Move."

Nite Owl raised an eyebrow. "What like move the board again?"

"No, move as in get up. Move," Rorschach growled, putting enough of his authoritarian voice in the last word to make Nite Owl scramble up as quickly as he can to not anger his friend. When he kneeled down to lay his hand over where he sat, Nite Owl was beyond confused.

"Hey, man, what gives?"

"Take a look for yourself," Rorschach answered then stepped aside for him to see. Nite Owl gave him another quizzical look then stepped forward and saw, with a headshake and chuckle of disbelief, that the whole time he was sitting on a small hatch that most likely led to the next levels of the ship; what they were looking for the entire evening.

As he stared down at the hatch, Rorschach stepped up behind him with a he found crowbar in hand, gesturing to it. "Do you want to do the honors?"

Nite Owl nodded, taking the bar from him and bending down, sliding an end through the wood until deciding whether it was secure enough or not then began trying to prop the hatch up. When the task turned out more difficult than he thought, Rorschach kneeled beside him, folding his hands on the bar close to his and helped pulled. The hatch snapped up with a crack quickly due to their joined strength and the two men peered down into it, seeing nothing but darkness. Nite Owl looked up at Rorschach, who nodded and lit his flashlight to get a better look.

"Looks like a normal corridor."

"After tonight, I'd say this ship is far from normal."

With a smirk, Nite Owl asked, "So, what's the plan to get to the enemy, boss?"

Rorschach hurmed then mumbled, "We're going down there, obviously."

He paused before continuing with, "Maybe split up to cover more ground."

Nite Owl's eyes widened behind his goggles. "Split up? Man, in case you've forgotten, despite being dressed up like an owl, I can't exactly see in the dark."

Rorschach nodded then reached into his coat, searching a moment until he pulled the item out and tossed it to Nite Owl, who caught it as it flew above his head and held it in his hand, squinting to see what was given to him: a box of matches.

"Where did you-" He paused then smiled. "Found it?"

Rorschach nodded. "Found it."

Running his thumb over the lid and popping it open to look at the dozen matches inside he mused, "Alright then."

"Hat."

Nite Owl switched his eyes from the box to the man before him. "Beg pardon?"

"May I have my hat?"

_Hat? Oh, right!_ He nodded and bent down where he was sitting earlier to retrieve his partner's beloved hat. "There you go."

Rorschach slowly took it from him (Nite Owl feels a shiver run down his spine as he does but is it due to the cold or their fingers brushing against each other?) and set it back on his head.

When Nite Owl made to give him back his scarf, he stopped him and said, "I told you that's yours now. You keep it." He tucked it back down and smiled, adjusting his goggles nervously hoping the other man couldn't see that he was blushing.

Not sure if he saw or not, Rorschach softly chuckled as he stepped around his friend, making Nite Owl uncomfortable ( and blush harder) as his gaze seemed to never leave his as he seemed to strut around him before hurling himself effortlessly down the hatch.

Nite Owl was about to call out to see if he was ok but the gleam of the flashlight was enough of an indication. With a deep breath, he adjusted his cape and scarf before leaping down and, rather clumsily, landing in darkness. Something brushing against his arm made him jump and fumble with the matchbox in his hand, striking his first match to see swirling ink in front of him, making him sigh in relief.

"Thank god. I was about to start-" A leather finger pressed softly against his lips cut him off.

"No speaking," Rorschach hissed in his ear. "If there are others down here, it is best that we keep quiet." He gently pulled his finger away and canted his head toward the fire wielding man. "Understood, Nite Owl?"

Nite Owl nodded then made a motion over his lips like a zipper before giving his partner a thumbs-up. Rorschach gave a soft, humored grunt and nodded in return before turning away from him, starting to walk down his chosen path, flashlight as his guide, leaving him completely alone for the first time all night.

…**..**

He didn't know why being alone bothered him so much since he was used to being by himself but there was a chill surrounding Nite Owl that he could barely ignore. Trying to focus on his mission rather than the coldness around and within himself, he went over what he gathered after walking for what he was assuming was twenty minutes, down three flights of stairs: nothing suspicious, no sign of people (unless a discarded gum wrapper counted) and the ship was creepy as hell because, aside from being cold and dark, the walls groaned and hissed like the belly of a beast. He still shivered remembering the sound of an echoing _clang_ behind him followed by a _clank_ and a _hiss_ that sounded like either an angry cat or a large deflating balloon; whatever it was, it made Nite Owl gasp in surprise, causing his match to go out, then he had to gather himself a moment before lighting a new one and continue walking.

Nite Owl's feet ached and he slumped against a wall. His mind drifted to Rorschach, at what he was doing and if mister hardcore detective found anything. _Knowing him, he's probably cracked the case and is wondering where I am_, he thought with a smile as he stretched and walked down the next set of stairs.

Once he reached the bottom he froze, a new sound meeting his ears: voices. Human voices.

Taking light steps and pressing himself as much as he could against the wall, Nite Owl strained his ears to make out what they were saying.

The voices were those of men, one asking another something Nite Owl couldn't understand. When the shadows of two men appeared on the opposite wall, framed by light from a door creaked slightly open further down from where he hid, Nite Owl listened in on their conversation:

"Is the boss sure? I mean, we've been so careful…" One man mumbled.

The other scoffed, "O'course he's sure. That ink faced freak has been chasing him for months."

_Ink faced?_ Nite Owl thought. _Rorschach…_

"I guess," the first man sighed. "Not to mention he works with that other mask nowadays."

"Who? Owl-man?" The second man proceeded to howl in laughter. "Kid's as threatening as a bag of marshmallows."

Nite Owl clenched his fists tightly, snapping his mash in half and crushing his matchbox, darkness folding around him where he crouched.

The box's _crunch_ was louder than he thought in the mostly empty corridor because the two men snapped their heads in his direction.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

"You hear that, Mike?" The first man asked his companion.

"Sure did, Lawrence," the previously jesting man answered. "C'mon."

The pair started making their way to his hiding place but Nite Owl was frozen, his mind spinning. He knew it would be foolish to fly so he'd had no choice to fight. Hand absentmindedly touching the scarf, he smiled, knowing exactly what to do.

The moment Lawrence and Mike were a couple of feet away from him, Nite Owl stood tall and strode out of the shadows, lighting a match with a flick of his wrist. "Hello, boys," he mockingly cooed at the duo as they paused mid-step, eyes widening when they saw who it was before them.

"Owl-man?" Lawrence asked in dull surprise.

"Something like that," Nite Owl smiled then, when Mike pulled out a gun and aimed it to him, rushed forward, swiping his lit match against Lawrence's cheek then struck another between his eyes, making him howl in pain as he retreated down the corridor, then kicked the gun from his partner's hand.

Mike snarled at impact then charged head first, fists swinging at Nite Owl in a fury. Nite Owl deflected most of his punches then, when the large man was starting to sweat, showing obvious signs of exhaustion, sucker punched him the jaw, sending him tumbling to the floor.

_Sparring with Rorschach was really paying off_, he thought as he knelt down to admire the soon-to-be bruise on Mike's face and smiled.

The eerie sound of the slightly opened door being slammed shut made Nite Owl jump back up, fists raised to attack regardless not being able to see. Footsteps surrounded him and he spun around on the spot, punching and kicking with all of his might, never making impact with anything but he fought the shadows until sweat dripped into his eyes and he panted. He cursed the darkness, cursed his poor vision, damned splitting up. He was afraid. For perhaps the second or third time since donning the cowl, Nite Owl was afraid but this time no one was here to save him.

His ears met silence but, as he turned and began to walk away, he stumbled over Mike's writhing body then met face-first with a large, chubby fist.

And he fell, fell, fell, into the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Oh me, oh my, how long has it been? Terribly sorry for the delay but I can finally present to you the epic conclusion of Dan and Rorschach's epic adventure (featuring Big Figure). This chapter is MASSIVE (17 pages) but I promise it's worth it. I also hope the characters making appearances here aren't too OOC since I'm trying to capture how I think they'd act early 60s crime fighting days/pre-group meeting so don't kill me if I butcher –insert name here-, ok? Please read and review xox**

"Well, well, look at what we have here. Where did you find him?"

"Couple o' floors up."

A low whistle sounded followed by a soft chuckle and a reply from the rather posh voice heard before.

"Not bad, not bad at all. The boss will be pleased with this. You did well, Lawrence."

More laughter erupted around Nite Owl as he felt himself being hoisted up by the fat henchman known as Lawrence.

_Spinning, spinning, why the hell is everything spinning? Aw hell, my head…._

Nite Owl groaned in pain but did not open his eyes as he felt himself being pulled through corridor after corridor, his legs providing no support and were dragging limply behind him like his cape as Lawrence and the other man chatted as they moved along. Wherever they we taking him, he had a feeling he wouldn't like it.

When they finally stopped, he used whatever strength he was regaining to crack open one eye. He guessed they were in the lowest part of the ship for the air was thick yet cold and he lifted his head slightly to see the man he learned during his trek here to be named Lou walk up to a man standing before a large door a few feet away from them. Nite Owl couldn't hear much of what Lou was muttering (being so below deck also meant being closer to the water thus, the sound of the waves crashing outside the walls echoed ten times louder here than any level above plus all the pipelines were down here, causing an eerie _hiss_) but when the man looked at him and Lawrence then nodded, he **really** had a feeling that whatever was going to happen to him couldn't be good. Not one bit.

_Great, just freaking great. Way to go, hero. You managed to screw yourself over again. Man, imagine when Rorschach…_

Rorschach!

Nite Owl trembled slightly in Lawrence's grip, mind wandering to his partner. He hasn't seen them since they split up and he didn't turn up during his brawl a while ago. Surely, the detective's over-sensitive ears would have heard the commotion and would be running to his partner's side but he didn't and that sent tremors of fear and worry throughout his body. Nite Owl tried to tell himself not to worry, that Rorschach was all right, that he's probably a few floors above his head searching for him while avoiding Figure's henchmen. _That's it, right? __**Right? **_He then realized that his scarf was missing and that just sent another shiver down his spine.

Nite Owl's mind was so far gone that he barely noticed the door being opened by the man Lou had spoken to nor did he feel himself being lurched forward. It wasn't until the bright ceiling lights illuminating the new room met his eyes so abruptly-considering he's been in the dark nearly all evening-which meant he had to blink several times behind his goggles for his eyes to refocus.

There were obviously more people in this room due to the abundance of voices around him and, once his eyes adjusted, saw that he was correct. Scanning his eyes around the room (without moving his head so his captors could still believe him to be unconscious), Nite Owl saw that yes, he was in the lowest part of the ship- one of the bunker-like storage rooms, to be specific -and that he made it to the center of this mad drug operation for hundreds, upon thousands of crates, bags, and other things were tossed up against the walls, being moved about, counted, and checked off by various of Big Figure's henchmen.

Nite Owl almost smiled with relief that the leads were true and this wasn't a waste of a night but then he remembered his still-missing partner and became crestfallen. He had to find him somehow; he just had to find a way to sneak off if the big oaf holding him **way** too tightly finally put him down. Now, Nite Owl didn't know much about quick escapes but, thankfully, he works with an escape artist and could probably mimic some of his moves if he tried hard enough. The men around him seemed to take little to no interest in the sight of a half-beaten mask and Nite Owl was happy about that; it made his escape planning easier. Still, it bothered him somewhat.

_I mean, I'm one of the guys determined to lock most if not all of you guys up! A little fear or surprise would be nice_, Nite Owl scoffed in his head. Sometimes he thought dressing like an owl lowered his status a bit. Perhaps if he dressed as a hawk, or a falcon, or, hell, even a bat, then he'd be feared or at least taken a little more seriously. _I know I'm scarier than the runt running this joint, that's for sure._

Speaking of the devil, at the back of the room where Lawrence and Lou had taken him, sitting at a makeshift desk made from spare crates, was Big Figure, little feet propped up and a cigar between his stubby fingers as he watched his operation coming together. The two men came to a halt and Nite Owl nearly fell forward onto his face if it wasn't for Lawrence's gorilla grip on his biceps.

Lou stepped forward and cleared his throat then took such a foppish bow before his pint-sized boss that made Nite Owl roll his eyes.

"A pleasant evening to you, Mr. Figure," he greeted with a smile. "I hope we are not disturbing you."

"Nonsense, Lou," the little man rasped after puffing out a perfect ring of smoke from his lips. "I always have time for the man who made this possible and my number one."

In Nite Owl's ear, he heard Lawrence huff then mumble under his breath, "Oh, brother," and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking or giggling.

Lou, on the other hand, beamed up at his boss, not hearing Lawrence at all and continued. "If you haven't noticed, sir, I have brought you a gift." Here he gestured to Nite Owl, still playing unconscious. "I hope you put him to good use for he took all of **my** energy to capture."

"For **you** to capture?" Lawrence snarled in anger. Without putting Nite Owl down, he stepped forward and bumped Lou to the side. "Boss, he's lyin'. I captured the Owl, not him!" The last word was laced with distaste but the man it was aimed to simply turned up his nose and sipped from a flask he fished out of his suit pocket.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh yea that's why Mike is injured and I got this mark on my face. Of course, because if you fight and corner a superhero, they come willingly then faint, am I right?"

Big Figure looked from each man back and forth then to Nite Owl then back to the men, a confused expression on his face. Lou's face was now flushed crimson while Lawrence grinned at him, straightening the hero in his hands a bit to brandish his catch more proudly.

Sighing, Figure stood and waddled up to the two men, puffing his cigar, then stopped before the captured hero. Nite Owl had to hold his breath when the tiny drug lord looked up into his face and blew the cigar's foul smelling smoke into his face, studying him closely.

"Was he alone?"

Lawrence nodded. "Yes sir."

Figure turned to Lou. "And you sent others around to make sure of this?"

"Of course, Mr. Figure," Lou answered with a half-bow.

The little man turned away from them, twirling his cigar between his fingers then muttered, "Considering what we have been…dealing with for the past few months, I find that hard to believe."

Lou and Lawrence looked at each other curiously. "What do you mean then, boss? That there's another guy on the ship?"

With an annoyed sigh, Figure strode back to where he previously sat and extracted a newspaper. Tossing it into Lou's free hands, he replied, "Precisely. Take a look: top right corner of page 7."

Flipping through the newspaper, Lou stopped at the page then read aloud, "Masked Pair stops Prostitution Ring in Queens." He cocked an eyebrow as he read the article then looked back at Figure for more of an explanation.

Lawrence read over his shoulder then cast his gaze to the limp man before looking at his boss. "So, this guy," he raised Nite Owl slightly, "is one of them?"

"The weakest half of the team but yes, this is one of those damn masks that busted King of Skin last week," Figure answered.

'_Weakest half of the team'_, Nite Owl snarled in his head. _Little guy, you have no idea who you're messing with._

"Hmm, if this is the weak one then who should we be worried about?" Lou asked as he gestured over his shoulder to a group of men leaning against crates they've just moved. "I'll send the lads not doing anything at the moment to hunt him down."

Big Figure regarded his right-hand man with a smirk and a laugh. "Lou, if this guy was easy to catch, I would have gotten him a long time ago. Creepy bastard has been after me even before he joined up with Billy the Bird Boy here." Taking a long puff of his cigar, he shook his head and mumbled to himself, "What I'd give to have Rorschach put away for good."

Nite Owl silently swallowed the lump in his throat that formed at the thought while Lou and Lawrence nodded in agreement before former spoke again. "What do we do with him then?"

Figure shrugged. "He's knocked out, isn't he? Just tie him up and, I don't know, put him to the side. We got more important things to worry about."

Nodding, Lou snapped his fingers to the men whose attention he had and ordered them to tie up their prisoner. The henchmen bowed in unison then moved forward to take Nite Owl from Lawrence's arms.

_I have one shot at this_, Nite Owl thought. _It's all or nothing._

As two large men reached forward, Nite Owl kicked one man in the stomach, making him buckle over with an expression of shock, then snapped his head up, knocking Lawrence hard in the chin, making the fat man let go of him at last. Big Figure stood behind him, mouth agape, watching as the rest of his men lunged at the now conscious hero only to be flung back here and there by a fury of hard punches and kicks. Lou watched the fight with an expression of interest but then turned on his heels and strode off, leaving his boss defenseless.

Nite Owl whirled in one place, fists raised, knees bent (like Rorschach taught him), attacking anyone who tried to take him down or ambush him when he wasn't looking. Panting and visibly shaken, he turned to the dwarf scared frozen, backing further up against a crate, and smiled, standing tall as adrenaline flowed through his veins. "How's this for the weak member of the team, runt?" He unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt and step towards the cowering, little man. "You and your boys here are under arrest."

"Is that so?"

Stepping halfway from behind a crate was Lou, a smug grin on his face. Nite Owl frowned and narrowed his eyes. "You heard me," he said to the grinning man. "As of now you are under arrest, you will be placed behind bars, and all of the cargo aboard this ship will be taken into custody by the state of New York. You may have tried running away during the fight but you're still going to lose."

"Running away?" Lou tilted his head back and laughed. "On the contrary, Mr. Owl. Something merely captured my attention and I, ever so curious, had to investigate."

Nite Owl rolled his eyes at him. "So you have a short attention span; congratulations. Now just step forward and this will all be over and done with."

"But don't you want to see what I found?" Lou asked with a mock pout that made Nite Owl want to punch him even more.

Not even paying much attention to the man anymore, Nite Owl turned his back towards him and focused on cuffing Big Figure (who was now trembling with fear and disbelief of being caught at last) and murmured, "Fine, man, whatever."

With another cold, mocking smile, Lou turned and dragged out what he found. Because he was turned around, he only heard the shuffling of something being moved along the floor and assumed that it was a bag or something of the sort; it was the next sound that met his ears that made him whip his head around: a muffled growl that was all too familiar.

Sure enough, to his horror, being dragged into view from behind the crate by his collar, was Rorschach, wrists bound by ropes, mask pulled up to his nose and mouth covered by the scarf he believed to be lost, growling and twisting about like an animal. Seeing Nite Owl with the handcuffed Big Figure before him made Rorschach pause in his thrashing and stare, black ink swirling menacingly at the sight of the man he has been searching for finally captured. It would have been a joyous moment if he was not bound by his wrists as well.

Big Figure and Nite Owl's eyes widened in disbelief while Lou just smirked at both of them, pride twinkling in his emerald eyes. The other men in the room who had gathered themselves after the fight now were tuned in to the scene before them, mumbling and whispering to each other at the sight of their boss and the man after their hides facing each other, bound, as their captors stared at each other.

"You did it," Big Figure dreamily said. "You finally got him." Nite Owl couldn't take his eyes off of his partner who he felt was staring back at him. _This is my fault, all my fault._

"All for you, Mr. Figure, but," Lou looked from Figure to Nite Owl, "I'm afraid we won't be able to properly bask in this moment if you are to be sent to prison. Perhaps we can set a bargain, Mr. Owl? You hand him over and you can have your little boyfriend back."

"Like hell I am," Nite Owl snarled in a voice he almost couldn't believe was his. He reached forward a clutched Big Figure by the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards his body. "He's going to jail and so are the rest of you. Now, let my partner-"

With a flick of his wrist, Lou brandished a knife from a compartment in his suit and held the blade to Rorschach's throat. All the bystanders gasped in unison before falling silent save for the waves outside and the hiss of the water pipes along the walls. A new, mad gleam fell over Lou's eyes like a veil. "You were saying?"

Nite Owl shivered. He couldn't let that happen, not to his friend. Looking around the room, he saw a gun he remembered hitting out of someone's hand during the ambush and picked it up. He never handled a gun before but, luckily, no one but Rorschach knew that, so he set his mouth in a firm line and stared Lou in the eyes before clicking the gun and holding it to Big Figure's head. "Two can play at that game."

Lou's eyes widen as Figure trembled in the Owl's grasp. Knowing a sure way to further anger the mask, he smiled and he yanked Rorschach's head back by his mask, exposing a pale, freckled throat, and then held the blade closer until the masked man hissed in pain as a thin trickle of blood appeared. Because he wasn't used to it, the sight of blood usually made Nite Owl nauseous but the sight of Rorschach's blood made him feel ill, angry, and scared all at once.

He trembled, the gun shaking in his hand, and he was all out of ideas. Suddenly, Rorschach started to snarl behind his mouth gag then the snarls turned into muffled words Nite Owl started to try and make out. As an attempt to silence him, Lou held the blade closer to his Adam's apple until Nite Owl spoke.

"Stop, can't you see he's trying to say something. I demand that you at least remove the gag."

The man scoffed but agreed. "Very well," he said. "Let the mewling creature bark out his last words." He then moved the knife from Rorschach's throat to his cheek and snapped the handkerchief off. Like a fish out of water, Rorschach opened his free mouth and gasped for air, finally able to breathe probably, and coughed before looking up at his partner. "Nite Owl…"

"It's ok, buddy," Nite Owl whispered to the man he trusted with his life, looking so small and weak before him. He gulped down whatever emotions he didn't want to show in front of the enemy but managed to muttered, "Everything is going to be ok."

Rorschach seemed to stare him down in silence, no one speaking throughout the room, the only sounds being the waves and a hiss that seemed to have grown louder. The small man canted his head slightly towards the sound and a small, knowing smile appeared on his thin lips. Tilting his head up to his captor, he rasped, "It's a deal: you get your precious leader back if you release me and all charges will be dropped. Fair compromise, yes?"

Was he hearing correctly or was he going mad? Rorschach. Compromising? Nite Owl couldn't believe it. On the long list on things his partner would never do, compromise had to be number one.

Nite Owl shook his head. "Rorschach, you can't be serious!"

"I am."

Big Figure grinned at Lou then at Nite Owl before announcing to his men, "Looks like we've come up on top this round, boys!" Cheers were all around them as he looked up at Nite Owl with a devilish grin. "Better untie me, Owl. Don't wanna risk losing your buddy there, right?"

Nite Owl kept his expression emotionless simply because he didn't know how to feel. They've come all this way and Rorschach, **Rorschach**, is letting him go. It was preposterous.

Once the handcuffs were unlocked and the gun joined it back on Nite Owl's belt, Figure smiled as he rubbed his wrists and walked to his henchman's side. "Lou," he ordered. "Release him."

The man nodded and cut off Rorschach's bounds before shoving him to his partner. When Rorschach made it to his side, straightening his mask and coat, Nite Owl couldn't look at him, he was too upset, and cast his gaze to his boots, arms folded across his chest.

Lou chuckled at his childish display. "Now, now, Mr. Owl, must you be so cross towards your comrade?" Nite Owl glared straight into the other man's face, making him smile wider. "It was a fair trade, and trades must be-"

A loud thump echoed throughout the room followed by a rumble, making everyone look up and around, the hissing around them louder than earlier. Nite Owl looked up and saw that the pipes began to quake. _What the hell?_

Just then, a young man came running into the room. "Captain Banner! Mr. Figure!"

Lou turned to the young man. "Rogers, what the bloody hell is going on?"

The young man, Rogers, followed the older man's gaze then answered, "It appears the water pressure has been raised, sir. No one can turn it down because knob to adjust it has been misplaced."

"Misplaced?" Lou roared. "How the hell can you-"

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat made Lou stop talking and look to the source of the disturbance. The other men, Figure and Nite Owl included, followed his gaze to see Rorschach, leaning nonchalantly against a barrel, dig into his trench for something that made everyone's eyes widen and Lou's face flare up in anger: the missing knob.

"Hurm," Rorschach looked at the knob in his hand with curiosity. "I wonder how that got in there."

Nite Owl couldn't help but grin. _God ol' Rorschach always being clever. _

Lou backed away from Rogers and took slow strides towards the calm man with the swirling face, trembling with rage. When he was a few inches away from where he stood the pipe above Rorschach's head burst, drenching everyone in front of it. Soon one became two then two became three until almost every pipe was bursting with enough water to reach past their ankles (or, in Big Figure's case, his knees). When the ship's emergency siren began to sound, the room exploded into chaos as men from every corner hurled themselves at the exit. Big Figure looked towards his precious cargo and cried out when he saw the water seeping into cracks on the boxes. "Ruined! It's all ruined!"

Lou snarled and lunged at Rorschach, who moved out of the way in time for the man to fall face first into the murky water. Ceasing the opportunity, Rorschach retrieved the rope and gag Lou had used on him and grabbed the splashing man by his wrists and bound them together before wrapping the scarf tightly over his mouth. The man continued to flop around in the rising water, snarling in agony.

Rorschach looked down at Lou, admiring his work, when a hand on his shoulder got his attention. Turning around, prepared for an attack, Rorschach lowered his hands to see a smiling Nite Owl looking back at him. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Rorschach snapped his neck, not quite looking his friend in the eyes and muttered, "I'm assuming you are no longer…disappointed?"

Nite Owl, smiling ever so brightly, shook his head, gleaming eyes focusing on the small man who simply hummed and said, "Good because I suggest we get moving while we still have a chance. This ship is going to sink and, because I'm not the captain," he canted his head towards the wide-eyed, heavily breathing, Lou, "I don't plan on going down with it."

As the partners swooshed their way through the water, the ship began to tilt to the side. Above them, a member of Banner's crew called out, "Abandon ship!" and all those who remained down in the storage rushed up to the door at once, pushing through into the corridor before darting off in every direction in panic. The rapid moving to and fro made the rocking worsen and Nite Owl was all the more surprised when Rorschach didn't flinch or pull away when he held his forearm as they scurried past frightened henchmen and crewmen.

They tried going up the stairs on some levels but the overcapacity led to shoving which led to people getting hurt and neither hero wanted to risk that. When they stopped to see how far along they were, Rorschach suggested a new way to get to the deck. Nite Owl, though skeptical, watched as his partner kicked down an air vent (thankfully the power died as the water rose) and said they have to get on their hands and knees and crawl up. When asked if he was sure that would work, Rorschach just gave an amused _ennk_ and asked Nite Owl how did he think he got down to the storage room. Nite Owl had nothing to say.

Ironically, the ventilation system was more navigational than the corridors. They crawled, slid, and climbed together as Rorschach listened and pointed his flashlight (Nite Owl wondered if he ever parted with the thing) ahead of them to know where the neck turn would be. When the sound of rushing water came from behind them, Rorschach steered them to safety and guided them on the proper path.

It wasn't so bad, Nite Owl decided, despite the abnormally large spider that landed on his head and crawled down his face, making him shriek in the most unflattering fashion and Rorschach had to calm him as he squirmed, wailing, before swatting the bug off him and beating it to a pulp with a book he kept in his trench. Nite Owl told him not to mention that to anyone EVER and Rorschach agreed, though he did say that would make wonderful blackmail. He glared at his friend in the dark then socked him in the shoulder, hearing a satisfying _oof_ from the other man as they continued to crawl.

Minutes later, when Rorschach said they were close, a loud boom erupted above them, making Nite Owl nearly jump out of his costume. His friend merely chuckled at his anxiousness and informed him that it was most likely someone shooting up a flare into the sky, hoping to get someone's attention from the shore. Still, Nite Owl was growing weary, the ship felt like it was nearly on its side, and he desperately wanted to just catch Big Figure and go home, take off his costume, and become Dan Dreiberg again.

"We're here," Rorschach said, pocketing his flashlight. Nite Owl sighed, happy that this night was finally almost over, and knelt beside his friend as leaned back to kick the last air vent off its bolts. The only sound coming from the deck was commotion: screams, sobbing, and the rattling of chains as lifeboats where lowered and crewmen struggled with raising the anchor (the cause for the ship leaning a certain way).

Rorschach hoisted himself out into the open air after looking around then offered out his hand so Nite Owl could get out without any difficulty. In the glow of the moonlight, Nite Owl saw how roughed up he and his partner looked: tears in their costumes from crawling over god-knows-what, dirt and dust everywhere. He isn't one to be vain about his appearance but damn, did they look like crap. He was about to make the comment to his friend but saw that his animalistic alertness was tuned in to something across from them: Big Figure, along with Lawrence and a bruised but surprisingly ok Mike, running through the deck's disarray to a life boat.

When they all locked eyes with each other, it became a chase. Rorschach weaved through the crowd, light on his toes and with graceful agility, and Nite Owl charged beside him on his long legs in big, powerful strides. When the ship took a sudden lean to its side, they lost them. The ship didn't seem to be able to stop itself from tipping like before and Nite Owl vocally realized that the water has risen too much and this was it. Rorschach reassured him then pointed to the railing ahead of them. "If we hang onto that as it tips," he instructed. "Our possibility of survival is more likely."

"More likely?" Nite Owl echoed. "Well, man, a guaranteed survival would be getting **off** this damn ship." He was tired and he was about to stomp off in a huff when a small, gloved hand on his shoulder stopped him, making him turn to look down into flowing ink.

"Nite Owl," Rorschach whispered. "I need you to…._hnng_….**please** trust me."

The sincerity in his words and strong yet gentle grip on his shoulder was all Nite Owl needed to agree. Together, they raced to the railing, other men following their actions, and held on for their lives. The railing was wet from the splashing water, making their gloves slip as they tried to hold on, and the cold air made them shiver to their bones. In a matter of seconds, the ship was almost completely on its left side, their feet slipping beneath them as it went, and Nite Owl's heart was thumping in his chest. The sound of his name beside him got his attention.

"Y-yea, man?"

"Nite Owl," Rorschach growled through chattering teeth. "Do you….still have the gun?"

"The gun? The hell do you want the gun for?"

With a shaking hand, Rorschach pointed out to the sea and Nite Owl's eyes followed it to see a motorboat, **their** motorboat, speeding towards the shore, with Big Figure and his men onboard. _You've got to be kidding me._

"I need you…," Rorschach continued as he adjusted his grip on the rail, "to shoot….the engine."

"What?!"

"You…heard me….fine."

"Yes, I heard y-you b-b-but I'm a terrible shot."

Rorschach sighed then rasped, "Give it to me."

Nite Owl regarded his friend. "Are you s-sure?"

When Rorschach gave a stiff nod, the ship had another violent lurch that caused men around them to let go and plummet down into the freezing water, mouths agape in screams of terror. Nite Owl knew they had no time to lose so he reached down to where he clipped the gun to his belt and passed it to the shivering man beside him who took it with a quaking, wet hand, aimed and, with a bang that echoed across the sea and among the screams of men, fired.

They knew it was a direct hit because they not only saw the boat stop but saw the engine explode on impact, the bullet lodging in the exact spot Rorschach wanted, stranding its three passengers. Nite Owl would have smiled, cheered, and congratulated him for a job well done but the feeling of the ship, now completely tipped to a side, began to sink down into the water, every man hanging on tightly to the rail, legs dangling helplessly in the air.

Nite Owl averted his eyes as he watched man after man lose their grip and fall, often hitting the wall of the control room before being swallowed by unforgiving cold water. With a heavy heart, he knew this could be their fate and, after stopping Figure, Rorschach was silent in the idea department which meant it was up to him. An idea came to mind, a risky one, but he knew it was better than simply letting go.

When the ship was lower into the water, Nite Owl had to let the- sadly -beginning to struggle man beside him know his plan.

"Rorschach," he shouted over the waves and creaks. "I have an idea but now you have to really trust me."

Rorschach let out a hurm but nodded.

"Ok, now first," he began to explain, "we have to climb onto the opposite side of the ship, over the rails."

When the masked face looked in his direction, Nite Owl pleaded with his eyes for the usually stubborn man to follow directions for once if he wanted to live until the cloth covered head nodded and the man swung himself up and over the railing. He shook a moment as he gathered his footing then stood up straight and reached out a hand to Nite Owl. The glove was slippery and the two struggled for minute until their hands meshed perfectly and Rorschach pulled him up with all the strength in his compact body until Nite Owl stood beside him.

On wobbly legs, he strode across the ship's side then looked down. The drop didn't look too bad so his plan just might work. _Emphasis on the "might",_ he thought coldly to himself.

Rorschach edged next to him, brushing his arm lightly against his, looking down. "So what's the plan now?" The smaller man rasped softly.

"We jump," was Nite Owl's answer.

"What?!" It was Rorschach's turn to be surprised. "You're mad. The water is like ice and the impact could be harmf-" He froze mid-rant when he felt a hand gripping- no, **clutching** -his and he looked up at Nite Owl, thankful for the mask preventing the other man for seeing his wide eyes, raised eyebrows, flushed cheeks and parted lips but he had a feeling the inkblots forming over his cheekbones were a slight give away.

"Rorschach," Nite Owl softly muttered to him. "You do all kinds of crazy, mind-blowing crap every night that I bet if I had a dollar for every time you've nearly gotten hurt or killed I'd be able to afford my own skyscraper in the city."

Rorschach's eyes were still focused on their locked hands. "Heh, is that supposed to make this better?"

"I'm not done." Nite Owl sighed before continuing. "It's because I see you throw yourself in harm's way and laugh in the face of danger that I worry. You're my friend and if I ever lost you I don't know what I would do, man; I really care about you and trust you…more than you think."

"More than I think?"

Nite Owl nodded. "Enough to do this." He then let go of Rorschach's hand and raised his own to his face, tearing away his goggles and pushing back his cowl. Though he was practically blind, he was able to see Rorschach's mask almost completely blacken then swirl madly as he imagined the eyes beneath it as wide as saucers as they took in the damp, chocolate colored curls and matching colored eyes looking back at him.

With a smile and a sigh, Nite Owl pulled off a slippery glove and extended his bare hand back to his partner. "My name is Daniel Dreiberg."

Rorschach only continued to stare at him, not moving as the ship continued to slowly sink beneath their boots, creaking loudly, and waves splashing higher as it sunk lower.

"Look," Nite Owl, or rather, Daniel, said urgently. "I know you look down on identity stuff but please, for my sanity and for the sake of us, learn to trust Daniel as much as you trust Nite Owl. What do ya say?"

His hand was getting as cold and as wet as his glove but then, when he was about to lower it, felt leather against his palm.

"Dreiberg?" Rorschach mumbled to himself. "I had a feeling you were Jewish."

"Oh, yea?" Daniel cocked an eyebrow. "And how did you figure that out, detective?"

"Liberal ideals."

Daniel scoffed and rolled his eyes. _Of course._

"But," Rorschach began again. "If it…_ennk_…helps partnership and helps you sleep at night, I will learn to trust you," he met his partner's eyes directly as he muttered slowly, savoring every letter it seemed, "Daniel."

Daniel beamed and pulled his friend into a quick hug then backed away without releasing his hand, pulling his cowl and goggles back into place.

"Then trust me now," he said, looking over the edge of the sinking boat, into the sea. Rorschach looked down beside him and nodded then tilted his head to the ordinary yet extraordinary (at least to him) man and asked, "Countdown?"

Daniel smirked and squeezed the gloved hand a bit tighter. "Countdown."

They walked to the very edge side-by-side until the tips of their boots were off the ship. They took identical deep breaths, held each other's hand tightly (both telling themselves that they were holding his hands for safety reason and nothing else) then began to count.

"One," Daniel said.

"Two," said Rorschach.

"Three!"

At the last number, they leapt into the air, arms raised and knees bent as they dove, never missing a beat as they hit the water and, for the first of many times, in their hearts.

…**..**

"I found another one!"

"Where?"

"Come over here and look for yourself."

"Oh my…He does not look well. And look at his suit!"

"Heheh, only you would give a shit about his suit. Is he breathing or do I have permission to poke him with a stick?"

"You will do no such thing! We must carry him over to the paramedics then get him cleaned up; he looks horrid."

"Let's toss you out into the sea and make your ass swim then we can see how you'd look, eh, Ozy?"

Nite Owl moaned, his eyes stung from salt water, and his back ached where he lied on the shore. Ozy? Ozymandias? Then the other man must be…

"Honestly, Comedian," Ozymandias scoffed. "We must get Nite Owl medical attention! He could have broken a bone and we can't tell!"

"Actually," Nite Owl groaned as he slowly started to pull himself up into a sitting position, opening his eyes enough and squinting behind his cracked goggles to see the frazzled Ozymandias and Comedian, the latter more so annoyed with the other man than panicking over his safety. "I think I feel all right."

"Oh, Nite Owl," Ozymandias sighed with relief, kneeling down to embrace him gently before pulling him up so he could stand, supporting his weight on the blond man's body. "It's so good to see you are unharmed."

"Yea," Comedian chuckled beside them, supporting Nite Owl's other side as they guided him over to the pear, seating him on a bench. "Ozy here was about to call the fire department, navy, the president, everyone in his little black book, if you didn't wake up. We got enough help 'round here as it is."

He was right. Once Nite Owl was comfortable (Ozymandias made sure of that and even retrieved a blanket to drape over his shoulders before walking off to talk with someone) he took in the sight on the shore and the docks: police officers and paramedics moving about, the latter helping those who were either severely injured or simply gathering up whatever bodies washed up on the shore while the former cuffed those who were fit enough to be shoved into the back of a police car, and the coast guard out in the sea, doing a mixture of both jobs.

"How did they all get here?"

"Someone sent out a help flare from the ship you were on," Ozymandias explained. "Lucky for all of you, Comedian and I were both patrolling nearby and acted accordingly."

Nite Owl smiled at the scene and, when nudged in the shoulder by the Comedian to get his attention, began to grin when he saw Big Figure in handcuffs, an expression of anger painted across his face, followed by Mike and Lawrence, shoved together in the back of a police car. _The perfect end to the greatest mission of their career, thanks to the Rorschach and Nite Owl team_, he thought. Rorschach… Despite his aching body's protests, he sat upright and started to look all around him.

"What is it, kid?" The Comedian asked as he lit his cigar.

"My partner," he mumbled, scanning his eyes everywhere. "Have you seen, Rorschach? Did he turn up?"

"Ror…OH! You mean Inky," the older mask laughed. He took a long inhale from his cigar then muttered, "Haven't seen him."

His heart sank. Rorschach hadn't washed up so that only meant… "Oh god," Nite Owl moaned, pulling the blanket tightly around him. "Oh, god…."

The Comedian opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Ozymandias strolling towards them with his usual good-natured smile.

"Everything is being worked on swimmingly. Figure and his men will be put on trial and jailed so everythi-" He stopped his chatter when he saw the grief-stricken face on his comrade. "Nite Owl? What's the matter?"

"Kid's partner didn't turn up, it seems," Comedian answered for him.

Ozymandias's face fell immediately and he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Now don't you fret. We will find him, Nite Owl, even if we must search all night. We leave no one behind," he ended with a smile then looked over at the eldest of their trio. "Right, Comedian?"

"Damn right we don't," he said, taking the last puffs of his cigar before flicking it on the ground, then standing and stomping on it with his boot. "Hey, Coulson!" he barked out over the shoreline until a police officer wearing a badge sporting 'Sheriff P. Coulson' turned around. "Gather your boys up; we got ourselves a search and rescue."

Coulson nodded then blew his whistle, motioning his hands above his head so his fellow officers could gather around him.

"Better we should go with them, don't you think?" Ozymandias suggested, straightening himself and dusting off sand from his costume.

"Yep," Comedian agreed. "Never send a cop to do a mask's job." He turned back to the sniffling Nit Owl and patted him on the back. "You got nothing to worry your birdy brain about, Hooters. We'll find him." He then nodded to Ozymandias and moved to join Coulson and the rest. The gold and violet wearing man cast Nite Owl one last small smile then followed the Comedian off the docks, leaving him alone to sniff and shiver under the unforgiving icy wind.

It was when the two masks and the search party left his peripheral vision that Nite Owl allowed his tears to flow freely. Never has he felt more disappointed in himself. _I should have never suggested jumping. Never, never_, he scolded himself. _The current was rough, he's smaller than I am, maybe he doesn't know how to swim, UGH I'm so stupid!_

Nite Owl did not know how long he cried but the cold wind brushing against his damp cheeks let him know that it was enough. "Stupid," he sniffed. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"What's stupid?"

The sudden voice beside him made Nite Owl shoot up from his seat, gripping the blanket tightly around him, looking for who spoke. Pulling his goggles up, his eyes widened and tears of joy and relief filled his eyes as Rorschach slowly limped towards him out of the fog on the docks. He was a mess like his partner, his hat long gone and his trench now draped over his arm, his suit had rips and the violet ensemble now had splatters of mud from his shoulder pads to the ends of his pants; regardless to Nite Owl, it was Rorschach and he was alive.

With happiness and adrenaline fueling him, he rushed towards his friend and enveloped their bodies together in the blanket as they embraced.

Rorschach's low _hnng_ of surprise was music to Nite Owl's ears and the feeling of his body pressed against his was like heaven. For a while neither of them spoke until the smaller man patted an uncertain hand on his partner's back and muttered, "Hello….Daniel."

The last word seemed a bit force but Daniel understood that he still had to get used to saying it while he, himself, had to get used to** hearing **him say it. His name sounded different in his friend's sandpaper voice but he decided that's what it more special and meaningful.

"Hey, buddy," he beamed through tears as he pressed his cheek against Rorschach's head. "Am I ever glad to see you! I-I thought I lost you."

"I didn't mean to frighten you," his friend sincerely rasped. "I feel I have done more than enough of that this evening. The sea's current swept me further from the docks than expected and I attempted on finding you as soon as possible. I apologize for my tardiness."

Daniel gave Rorschach another tight squeeze before pulling away to look at him, brown eyes burrowing into black splotches. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, man. You saved my ass tonight and I couldn't thank you enough."

"Heh," Rorschach dryly chuckled. "I thought it was your plan to jump."

"It was, yea," he laughed in embarrassment. "But back there, on the ship, when that Banner guy was about to get Figure and run for it but then flooded their ship, now don't take this the wrong way but that was the craziest shit I've ever seen."

Rorschach hurmed. "I put your life at risk by suggesting we split up in the first place." He paused and shook his head, more to himself than to Daniel, then added, "Foolish, rookie mistake."

"Now don't you start with that," Daniel said. "You were a hero today and that's all that matters, ok?"

Rorschach lifted his head and stared back at his friend for a moment. Daniel smiled and clapped him gently on the shoulder and steered him back to the shore where he knew Ozymandias and the Comedian would be.

They strolled together, Rorschach leaning slightly on Daniel as the moved alone due to a sprained ankle (Daniel suggested talking to some of the paramedics but his ever stubborn partner wouldn't have it so he had no choice but to listen) in comfortable silence until Rorschach rasped, "I wouldn't have been able to do it without….ennk…you. I thank you for your bravery and loyalty."

Daniel froze mid-stride to smile down at the man limping beside him. Rorschach isn't one to get all sincere and humble over things but when he did, he **really** did and Daniel loved that about him. "You're very welcome." Rorschach simply hurmed again and nodded even though Daniel saw the inkblots flow over his face into what he thought looked like a smile.

By the time they made it onto the sand, Daniel helping Rorschach a bit so he wouldn't stumble, they saw their fellow masks had returned with their search party. Ozymandias looked deeply crestfallen while the Comedian spoke urgently with Sheriff Coulson who was the first two see them approaching.

"You don't have to worry about anything, sir," Coulson smiled then pointed over the broad man's shoulder. "Looks like your kids found their way back."

Comedian turned to see Nite Owl and Rorschach moving towards them then let out a laugh, booming and heartfelt. "Ain't you two a sight for sore eyes, hahaha. Inky, you've sure had us all going crazy here."

Rorschach nodded in his usual (though Daniel never yet understood) respect to the elder hero. "I apologize, sir. I had lost my way earlier."

"Yea, yea, all water under the bridge, right kid?" He thumped Rorschach enthusiastically on the back then called over to the slumping blond man who had yet to see what was going on. "Hey, Ozy! Birdie found him so you can stop looking like you're about to piss in your costume."

Ozymandias's head shot up, eyebrows knitted together as he opened his mouth to no doubt talk back to the Comedian's retort, then smiled and straighten himself as he made his way to the three men.

"Oh, Rorschach, thank goodness you're all right. You had us worried sick and….oh dear, your ankle! I'll go contact a paramedic at once!"

Daniel smirked as Rorschach stood up taller and rasped, "I'm fine like this, Ozymandias. Thank you."

"B-but you're bleeding and you could get infected…"

"Fine like this, Ozymandias."

The blond sighed in defeat but still smiled. "All right then. No use arguing tonight anyway since, now that we're all together, is a joyous occasion." Taking one of Daniel and Rorschach's hands in each of his, he shook them proudly and said, "Congratulations to both of you for finally capturing Big Figure. Your nobility should both be remembered and admired."

"And how," the Comedian grinned in agreement, shaking both of their hands once Ozymandias released them. "That was some killer hero work, kiddos, and I know it when I see it."

"Thank you," the partners said at once, both smiling despite still being covered in filth and freezing. It was a happy day and they both wanted to take it all in.

The four heroes sat against a police car, sipping coffee and nibbling on donuts given to them by Sheriff Coulson, when a small car pulled up, two men stepping out.

The Comedian looked up from his third donut and snickered. ""Bout time the press showed up." He nodded to Daniel and Rorschach. "Show time boys, heheh."

Daniel smiled and slid off the car's hood, Rorschach beside him, then took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts so he wouldn't stutter or make a total fool of himself while describing everything that happened to the reporter. He liked speaking with the press and didn't mind having his picture taken unlike Rorschach. He waited for the man to protest but instead was met with the smaller man stretching his arms up over his head until hearing a satisfying snap from his back, settling his coat beside his coffee cup, and then straightening his suit before taking noticing Daniel looking at him curiously.

"What?"

"Oh, uhh, nothing," Daniel quickly mumbled. "Just surprised you don't seem to be bothered about having to be interviewed and all that."

Rorschach sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I have done enough things tonight that a pencil, notepad, nor camera could live up to."

Daniel smiled and laughed, clapping his friend on his shoulder as he too straightened out his costume as much as he could and slid his goggles into their proper position. "Let's go give them a show then."


	7. Interlude

**Author's Note: -gasp- two updates in one night? That's cray cray! Well, I love you guys so much and felt bad for not updating for so long I decided to make a little interlude to show where I think I want the story to go following the previous chapter (but if you guys have ideas, PM me because I'd love to know what the masses want to see happen). If the story gets longer then I guess this will be the first of a couple interludes then. Thanks again for reading, sorry if they are OOC and please read, review or follow xox**

It took another half hour for the energy on and around the shore to die down and Ozymandias sighed from where he sat on top of an apartment building, admiring the way the moon gleamed over the ocean, the tide coming in and out, waves crashing against the rocks below the pier. It was an exciting night and he was honored to have been a part of it. Nite Owl and Rorschach proved themselves to truly live up to the expectations of being a mask tonight which meant a lot to what he and the others stood for.

He likes the pair; he felt they made a good team despite being nearly polar opposites with Nite Owl's youthful chatter and boyish smiles and Rorschach's gruff demeanor and wise above his years- despite not knowing his true age- attitude towards things. They just fit perfectly it seemed. Even while they were being interviewed earlier, Ozymandias recalls, their differences were there. Nite Owl smiled and enthusiastically how his partner used his wits to save them both while Rorschach stood close (very close, Ozymandias thought as he watched from afar) and nodded along, inputting his point of view every now and then or correcting Nite Owl when the excitable boy mispronounced something or skipped over a detail. It never bothered him, being interrupted or corrected, and he'd just smile and nod or affectionately nudge his elbow against the other man's.

Ozymandias didn't know….well, he kind of had hiss assumptions about the meanings behind the gestures but he chose to keep his lips shut. He liked both men, they were polite and he thought them as fond acquaintances he looked forward to seeing more often, so he didn't want to strain any developing relationship he would want to form with the two or even damage their own friendship by voicing his assumptions. He was many things but Ozymandias knew he was no fool.

Once interviews were over and Nite Owl threw his arm around his partner while they had their picture taken, the duo waved their goodbyes and walked off together, their steps never moving out of sync, some mutual happiness and calm over them that perhaps didn't have much to do with the Figure case.

Now, everyone gone and this part of town put back in its usual silence, Ozymandias did his mediation for the night then opened his eyes to watch the sea with a sigh. The sound of a garbage bin being knocked over makes him abruptly stand into his fighting position but when the culprit swears he relaxes.

"Losing your grip, Edward?" He asks with a smirk, allowing his voice to swim back to its native German accent for the first time that evening. "I am afraid you're getting too old, my friend."

"Shove it, Adrian. You know I'm a fighting man and I refuse to go down without one," the Comedian, Edward, groaned, walking over to sit beside him.

Ozymandias, Adrian, smiled and chuckled. "I will keep that in mind."

Edward scoffed then fished out a cigar from his belt and lit it, Adrian rolling his eyes at his older companion as he sat back down, turning his gaze back to the sea.

After a few minutes of silence, Edward let out a perfect smoke ring and giggled at it, amused at his own creation then said, "Hell of a night, hey kiddo?"

"Indeed," Adrian replied. "Those two deserve it. Rorschach had been through a lot gather leads and such so it is a relief to both he and Nite Owl that the predicament is over."

"Until the next spook comes a-knockin'," Ed noted with a laugh that made Adrian laugh back in response.

"Of course," he said. "There is always something going on in this city yet I am relieved that they have a decent system between them."

"System?" Edward sneered. "Now between you and me, Blondie, Birdy and Inky got more than a system between them."

Adrian's eyebrows rose and he felt himself pale from the realization. "You saw and have thought the same as I then," he muttered softly, gazing down at the hands folded in his lap. He looked up at his elder man. "What do you think will happen if our assumptions are correct, you think?"

Edward became silent and he sucked a moment or two on his cigar under the other's azure gaze as he thought. Sighing he said, "Well, from what I've seen in my years of heroing is that sort of thing never ending nicely."

It made sense, Adrian concluded. But he just couldn't see anything bad happening to or between such admirable men and the mere thought greatly saddened him. "Edward," he softly began, trying to sound clear despite the tightening he felt in his chest. "Is there anything we can do that, I do not know, would prevent anything ad from happening?"

Standing and tossing the cigar over the ledge, Edward turned his gaze away from the blue of the ocean to the small blue pools pleading up at him. Adrian always looked so small when he didn't understand something or felt like he could've done something better for someone which was a slight relief from Edward's point of view considering how arrogant the younger man can be at times.

With a sad half-smile, Edward affectionately (though a bit harshly) ruffled his friend's blonde locks. "I think as far as these things go, kid, it's best to let glory years stay that way and let nature take its course, whether it proves to be good or bad in the long run. Everything happens for a reason, ya know?"

Adrian nodded and carefully fixed his hair back into place as he stood up next to Edward. "I understand but-"

"Ah-ah-ah," Edward lifted a finger to his face to silence him. "No more 'but's, alright? Now I don't want to hear any more about Owl-Eye and Freaky-Face's relationship for the rest of the night. I agree to work with you once a week and, believe or not, I want to make the extra pair of arms and legs you graciously provide useful. You got me?"

The blonde's cheeks flushed (he hated being scolded) but he nodded.

The seriousness of Edward's face softened again and he clapped his companion on the back, steering him towards the fire escape. "Now, Mr. Veidt, if you would be ever so kind to follow me, I can tell you something our new friend Sheriff Coulson was able to share that would take your mind off things."

A grin appeared on Adrian's face. "A certain magician's location acquired at last?"

Edward simply grinned back and winked before launching himself down the fire escape and trotting through the alley below, waiting for Adrian to follow.

Adrian was ready to lower himself onto the fire escape too but he stopped a moment and looked instead up at the moon and stars above. Closing his eyes, he did something he hadn't done since he was a child: make a wish_. I wish for life to be kind to my friends and that, in the future, they will not step out of line and be happy. Let the glory years last beyond this decade._

"Ozy, you coming or what?! Like you kindly pointed out, I ain't getting much younger!" The Comedian called from below.

With a proud smile, Adrian opened his eyes before stepping down the fire escape, landing softly beside his companion before they strode off, discussing plans of their own to catch the illusive illusionist at last.

Still, as they walked and talked like any other night, Adrian still had one thought on his mind:

_I hope my wish comes true._


End file.
